#white people reading these names and being like ????? BUT THEY ARE LOVELY YALL

[moonbaetarot]

Pick a pile

Random things about your future spouse

1. 2. 3.

Pile 1

Your future spouse dates to marry they don’t go messing around with people they want their wife/husband and nothing else. Your person has been wanting to be married since they were a little kid their parents set a really go example of what love is. They could still be friends with people they met in elementary school and this is because They are really friendly and good communication. Your future spouse could love sending cute little text or writing love letters to you. This person could have a love for cars or has a really nice car they love. (They could also love cats because I kept typing cats instead of cars lol) They only do things that makes them feel good if anyone or anything makes them feel bad they are quick to cut them off. You and this person could’ve had a past life together you two are very much soulmates. Your future spouse likes change they get bored quick. Your person is one of a kind they bright up a room. Your future spouse believes everything is connected, everything happens for a reason and it’s all going to be ok so when you are unsure about something they are going to reassure you everything is alright. Oddly specific Someone future spouses name could be Ryan or you could know someone named Ryan. Your future spouse loves summer, the beach, the sun and summer food. Your spouse could be Leo, Gemini, Sagittarius, Taurus, Aquarius or Capricorn. Your future spouse could be a twin or is a lot like their dad. They love fishing going out on a boat. You or your future spouse dad likes to ride Motorcycles and or has a tattoo of a cross or angle wings Im getting a lot about someone’s dad here there dad was a big part of their life as a kid they really look up to them.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 2

Your future spouse is successful they have achieved a lot in their life I feel like some of there achievements there parents helped with they may come from money. They are a goal getting if they want something there are going to get it. There love language is gift giving They love buying you whatever you want I’m seeing you walking out the mall with bagssss baby lol (I’m seeing the pink and Victoria secret bags the pink ones with white dots, I know not everyone is going to know what I’m talking about but if you do then you know lol). This person has a loved one that passed away that watches them I feel that they were really close with them as a kid and now watch over them. Someone’s favorite number could be 17. You and this person may move in really quickly When you and this person meet things are going to be moving really quickly. Your future spouse could be a real estate agent sells house, designs house, builds houses or decorates homes something of the sort. Your person is traditional they want to provide for you. They have a good intuition they know how to use their higher power and skills. All this long hard work this person does will pay off. This person knows how to take an L they grow from failed situations they don’t let it get to them. Your future spouse is an hardworking boss man you just have to sit back and see their vision being with this person your not going to have to work if you dream of being a stay at home mom or don’t wanna work in general this person will let you and y’all will with be just fine money wise. I see people being jealous of you two because yall have it all. Your future spouse could have an unusual unique name.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

Pile 3

Your future spouse loves making memories with you I see you two being 80 and y’all’s grandchildren come over and your future spouse pulls out a huge box just of pictures of fun things and memories y’all did over the past decades. your person is at good at manifestating if they really put there mind to something it can become there reality. You and your future spouse may look alike they don’t look like your siblings or nothing lol but yall share the same features. They come from a big family and have a lot of siblings I feel like you may be an only child or only have 1 or 2 siblings tho. Someone’s future spouse is a red head or a ginger or you are. You and your future may meet after you are going through a breakup your going to be like 3 weeks or months post break up and your going to meet your future spouse and your going to be closed off for good reasons but your going to realize why this past relationship didn’t work. This person may struggle with a bit of anxiety. This person visits you in your dreams a lot I feel like even when you meet this person you’re going to have very detailed dreams about your future spouse. You or your spouse could be a water sign Pisces, cancer, Scorpio. They are in touch with their inner child they are really creative and just have a really innocent image of life. Your this person whole world this person loves you so much yall are bestfriends if there was a map of there heart of how much you fill up there heart it would be full (this is such a sweet strong message). Your future spouse may like rock music. You and this person could have a baby boy and girl together. This person is taller than you. Your person may wear glasses or contacts. You or your person may be a bit scared of commitment.

Thank you for reading loves! 🤍

[pandapetals]

Shadows of the Past

You’d been in town for exactly one year, two days, and six hours when he walked into the diner. After that, everything changed. Logan became the love of your life and the two of you bonded over trauma in the past while trying to move forward. *or basically a wolverine origins movie AU of sorts.

a/n: decided to post this fic on here all in one go so yall don't have to go to ao3. i wrote this months ago when i first joined the fandom so it may not be the best or edited well and i don't feel like reading it to make sure.

lumberjack logan howlett x fem!reader - no use of y/n, no reader description but reader does have mutant powers, x-men origins au, evenutal smut, small town, memory loss, angst, eventual romance, softie logan

word count: 27k

divider credit: @enchanthings

In the heart of a remote, small town, ancient trees towered like sentinels over the quiet streets, their canopies forming a vast, emerald roof that seemed to stretch on forever. The few who lived here either cherished the untouched beauty of the wilderness or were lumberjacks, carving out their lives one tree at a time. It was the perfect place to disappear.

That was why you chose it—after stumbling upon the town during a restless drive, searching for somewhere to lay low for the night.

People kept to themselves, though you caught the occasional whisper with your name in it. You couldn’t blame them—any newcomer in a place like this would set nerves on edge. But over time, you proved you were just like them. You took a job as a waitress at the local diner and settled into the motel down the road, quietly trying to carve out a life for yourself.

No one thought twice about you—until he showed up. You’d been in town for exactly one year, two days, and six hours when he walked into the diner. His rugged features and rough manner could have easily blended in with the locals, but something about him stood out like a dark cloud on the horizon. 

Everyone could sense something was simmering beneath the surface. He had the look of a man itching for a fight, desperate to feel anything at all. The last thing folks wanted here was trouble—and neither did you. You had run from men like him before.

He slid into one of the booths, his eyes sweeping the room with a calculating gaze. A tight white tank peeked out from beneath an unbuttoned plaid shirt, as if he wore the local uniform but with a defiant edge.

You had no choice but to face him. Being the only waitress meant there was no one else to send.

With a steadying breath, you picked up a menu and cautiously approached the booth, forcing a smile as you set it down in front of him. He didn’t glance up, didn’t even flinch. His eyes remained locked on the large window, something outside holding his attention in a vise-like grip.

“Welcome to the Rusty Spoon. What can I get you?” you asked, your voice steady but tinged with an edge of unease.

“You live here?” His eyes stayed fixed on the window as if the answer didn’t matter as much as what he was watching.

You nodded slowly, then noticed his gaze shifted. “Yeah. Who’s asking?” You tried to sound tough, but the words came out shaky, betraying your nerves.

Finally, he turned his head and looked up at you, his brown eyes intense, pinning you in place. “Someone who’s trying to—” He stopped mid-sentence, his gaze locking onto yours. For a moment, his tough exterior faltered, and something in his eyes made you pause. There was a pain there, deep and raw, and suddenly, you realized he wasn’t the man you first thought he was.

“It’s a good place to live,” you replied quickly, cutting him off before he could finish. “Folks keep to themselves, and hardly anyone passes through.” You could sense his unease, like a ripple beneath the surface, something unspoken lingering in the air between you.

He nodded, but his gaze remained locked on yours, intense and searching. You raised an eyebrow and gestured to the menu in front of him. “You gonna order, or do I have to kick you out?”

A slight chuckle escaped him. “I’ll have a coffee.”

“A man your size needs more than just coffee,” you teased, trying to lift the mood, though the tension still hung in the air. “I reckon you could use some breakfast.”

He shrugged, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sure, whatever you think.”

You grabbed the menu from the table and made your way back to the counter, tossing it into the bin with the others. Though you felt more at ease, you couldn’t help but keep an eye on the mystery man. It wasn’t because you thought he was dangerous—there was just something about him, something different.

After placing his food and coffee down, you watched as he stared at it, lost in thought.

“Something wrong? You don’t like eggs?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He shook his head slowly. “No, I mean... I like them.”

You chuckled, leaning in a bit closer. “Not a man of many words, are you?”

“Guess not.”

You hesitated for a moment, then sat across from him. “I can tell you’re running from something,” you said, your voice soft but probing. “I know the feeling. I ran, too, and this place has been my solace ever since.”

You weren’t sure why you were sharing this with him. Maybe you sensed a kindred spirit. Maybe it was simple curiosity. Or maybe, after all this time, you just needed someone to talk to. It felt strange, but also comforting, to finally meet someone new in this small, quiet town.

“I’m not running,” he finally said, picking up the fork and taking a deliberate bite of his eggs.

You sighed, leaning back slightly. “Everyone runs from something. It’s human nature. We run from our problems, our worries... maybe even from someone.”

He looked up, his brows furrowed. “Look, you seem nice, but I’m not here to chat.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, stepping back as you stood up, the brief connection slipping away as quickly as it had formed. “I’ll be over there if you need anything.” You gestured toward the counter before hurrying away.

Why had you done that? You’d let your guard down to some stranger.

Shaking off the thought, you busied yourself with work, tending to the two other customers in the diner, hoping the routine would steady your nerves.

But no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. The way his eyes had darkened when you mentioned running, the tension in his voice when he’d brushed you off. There was something there, something he wasn’t saying.

You wiped down the counter, your movements automatic, while your mind spun with possibilities. Was he in trouble? Or was he just someone who preferred to keep his past buried? You had a feeling it was more than that, though. The pain you’d glimpsed in his eyes felt too raw, too recent.

The bell above the diner’s door jingled, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turned just in time to see him walk out, his steps rough and hurried. A pang of concern flared inside you as you rushed to the booth.

A few crumpled bills lay on the table next to a half-eaten plate. The food was cold and untouched, save for a few bites. His coffee was still steaming in its cup.

You lingered there for a moment, staring at the scene he’d left behind, a knot tightening in your chest. Had you driven him away?

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

A few days passed, but your thoughts kept drifting back to the mystery man. You hadn’t seen him around town since that morning, leading you to assume he’d left for good. Yet, despite yourself, something inside you longed to see him again.

You sighed, burying your face in your hands. The effect this man had on you was unsettling. You had never felt this way before—so drawn to someone you barely knew.

You got ready for work in a daze, your mind still tangled up in thoughts of the mystery man. His presence lingered in your mind like a half-forgotten dream, unsettling and yet impossible to shake. You barely noticed the routine of pulling on your uniform, grabbing your keys, and locking the door behind you as you headed out.

The drive into town took you down the familiar long, winding road, the early morning mist curling around the trees like ghostly fingers. Normally, you find this stretch of road calming, a moment to gather your thoughts before the day begins. But today, your mind was elsewhere—back at the diner, replaying the brief moments you’d spent with him. The intensity of his gaze, the way his voice had wavered when he spoke, the pain you’d seen lurking beneath the surface.

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t see the truck in front of you until it was too late. Your car slammed into it with a sickening crunch of metal, jolting you violently against the seatbelt. The airbag deployed, the sudden impact knocking the breath out of you.

For a moment, you just sat there, dazed, your heart pounding in your chest. The smell of burnt rubber and the hiss of escaping steam filled the air. Slowly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and pushed the door open, stumbling out of the car. A few cuts and bruises marked your arms and legs, but otherwise, you were fine.

You looked up at the truck you’d rear-ended, your stomach sinking as you saw the damage. The back of the truck was dented and scraped, but what caught your attention was the man stepping out of the driver’s side.

It was him.

The mystery man turned around, and your eyes widened in shock. A large gash marred his forehead, blood trickling down the side of his face.

“Are you okay?” you blurted out, rushing over to him. Panic surged through you. “We need to get you to a hospital—”

He waved you off, his expression unreadable. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “It’s just a scratch.”

“A scratch? You’re bleeding!” you insisted, your hands shaking. 

As he turned away, something caught your eye. The gash on his forehead—impossibly—was healing itself. You watched, stunned, as the torn skin slowly knit back together, the blood drying and vanishing as if it had never been there.

You froze, your breath catching in your throat as you watched the wound disappear completely, leaving behind nothing but smooth, unblemished skin. 

“What…?” The word barely made it past your lips, disbelief washing over you like a cold wave.

He glanced back at you, catching the shock in your eyes. “I told you, I’m fine,” he said, his voice low and steady, but there was a warning in his tone now.

Your mind reeled, trying to make sense of what you’d just seen. Was it a trick of the light? Or were your eyes playing some cruel joke on you? Yet the evidence was right there in front of you—there was no denying what you had witnessed.

“You’re one of them,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “A mutant?”

He didn’t respond immediately. His intense brown eyes met yours, filled with a mix of resignation and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite place. “You need to forget what you just saw,” he said softly, his tone heavy with an unspoken warning that made your stomach twist.

“I can’t just forget—” you started, but your words died in your throat as he turned back toward you, his eyes still intense and dark.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a weary look settling over his face. “I’m just trying to start over, bub. I don’t need folks knowing I’m a mutant.”

You stood there, your heart pounding, trying to process everything. The man in front of you—this mysterious, gruff stranger—wasn’t just anyone. He was a mutant, someone with abilities far beyond the ordinary. Someone like… you.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Is that why you asked about living here?”

He held your gaze for a long moment as if trying to decide whether to trust you with the truth. Finally, he sighed, the weight of his past heavy in his eyes. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I need a place like this… where people don’t ask too many questions. Where they just leave you alone.”

You nodded, understanding all too well the need to escape, to find a place where the past couldn’t reach you. “I get it,” you said, surprised by the steadiness in your voice.

He scoffed, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What’s a pretty woman like you gotta run from?”

You hesitated, feeling an unexpected pull toward this man—this stranger who somehow felt more familiar than he should. “Stuff,” you said softly, almost confessing everything but you held back. “Doesn’t really matter. I left it behind when I came here.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if trying to see past the words, to the truth beneath them. The bitter smile faded, replaced by something more sincere, almost understanding. “We all got our demons, I guess,” he said quietly. “Places like this are good for that—keeping them buried.”

You nodded, the words striking a chord deep within you. For a moment, the two of you just stood there, the quiet morning air thick with unspoken understanding. You felt an odd sense of comfort in his presence like you weren’t as alone as you’d always believed.

“Maybe,” you ventured, breaking the silence, “we don’t have to keep them buried forever. Maybe we just need… time.”

He looked at you with a mixture of surprise and something softer, something that hinted at the man behind the guarded exterior. “Time, huh? I’ve got plenty of that. Trust me, it doesn’t change a damn thing.”

The weight of his words hit you—the exhaustion, the loneliness. It mirrored your own, a reflection of the life you’d been leading since you came to this town, hiding in plain sight. You sighed, turning to your car and rubbing your forehead. It was totaled, no doubt.

“Well, I guess I’m screwed,” you muttered, kicking the tire in frustration.

“It was my fault. I stopped because I thought I saw a squirrel in the road,” he said, stepping closer. “I can give you a lift. Where were you headed?”

You laughed, not because it was funny, but because you could see he was lying. It all felt like a stroke of bad luck. The kind that left you wondering if the universe was laughing at your expense. In the chaos, you’d completely forgotten about work—and the fact that you were now late.

“I’m supposed to be at the diner,” you replied, almost absentmindedly, as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Then you looked up at him, shaking your head. “Sorry, but there’s no way I’m getting a lift from you. You’re a stranger. I don’t even know your name.”

He nodded, his eyes softening. “Logan.”

“Logan,” you repeated, the name lingering on your tongue as if trying to find a place in your thoughts, but instead of offering your own, you simply let his name hang in the air between you.

The practical side of you quickly took over. You glanced back at your totaled car, feeling a surge of frustration and helplessness. There was no way you were getting to work on time now, and the idea of walking into town was equally unappealing.

Logan seemed to sense your hesitation. “Look,” he said, his voice softer, almost gentle. “I get it. You don’t know me, and you’ve got every reason to be cautious. But I’m not here to hurt you. I just want to help.”

You studied his face, searching for any sign of dishonesty, but all you found was a tired sincerity in his eyes. There was a part of you that still wanted to push him away, to keep the walls up. But another part of you—a part that had been growing quieter and more lonely since you’d arrived in this town—wanted to take the risk, to trust him, if only for a moment.

“Alright,” you said, your voice firm but still holding a trace of uncertainty. “Just to the diner.” 

Logan nodded, seeming to understand your need for boundaries. “Fair enough,” he replied. “I’ll take you to the diner. We can figure out what to do with your car after that.”

With a reluctant sigh, you agreed, walking around to the passenger side of his truck. The door creaked as you opened it, and you hesitated for just a second before climbing in. The seat was worn and the cab smelled faintly of oil and something earthy, like damp leaves. It was clear this truck had seen a lot of miles, just like its owner.

Logan slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the rumble of the truck vibrating through the seat. For a few moments, the two of you rode in silence, the winding road passing by outside the window.

As you got closer to town, the reality of the situation began to settle in. You were sitting in a truck with a man who, just moments ago, had been a stranger. A man who had revealed an impossible ability—a mutant, like you. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, not from fear, but from the sudden understanding that your life might be about to change in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

“You mentioned you were trying to start over,” you said, breaking the silence. “I don’t mean to be nosy, but why?”

Logan kept his eyes on the road, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, well, you are being nosy,” he replied, though he didn’t stop there. “Just seemed like a good place to disappear.”

Disappear. The word echoed in your mind, striking a chord with your reasons for coming to this town. You, too, had been searching for a place to hide, to leave the past behind.

 As the diner came into view, you found yourself hesitant to leave the safety of the truck, of Logan’s company. There was a strange comfort in knowing you weren’t the only one with secrets, that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to face them alone.

He pulled into the parking lot and put the truck in park, glancing over at you. “You gonna be alright?”

You nodded, though the uncertainty still lingered. “Yeah,” you said, more to convince yourself than him. “I’ll be fine.”

But as you reached for the door handle, something stopped you. “Logan,” you said, turning to face him. “Thanks for the ride.”

He nodded, his gaze softening again. “I owed you.” 

With that, you stepped out of the truck and into the crisp morning air, the weight of the day ahead pressing down on you. But as you walked toward the diner, you couldn’t help but feel a spark of something new—hope, maybe, or the beginning of a connection you hadn’t expected.

As Logan’s truck pulled away, you realized that, for the first time in a long while, you weren’t entirely alone.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

You weren’t sure how you’d get home, especially with your car left abandoned in the middle of the road. The thought gnawed at you throughout your shift but just a few minutes before the end of it, the door jingled, and you glanced up. Logan stepped into the diner, his presence both unexpected and strangely reassuring. 

His eyes scanned the diner, searching until they found you behind the counter, wiping down a plate. You offered a small, uncertain smile, still unsure of what to make of this man who seemed to keep reappearing in your life.

He made his way to the counter, the floorboards creaking slightly under his weight. As he approached, the diner seemed to grow quieter, the hum of conversation fading into the background.

“Guessing you still need a ride?” he asked, his voice low, almost as if he didn’t want to disturb the fragile peace that had settled between you.

You hesitated, glancing down at the plate in your hands, now spotless from your nervous scrubbing. The practical side of you knew you needed help getting home, but another part of you—the part that had learned to be cautious, to avoid relying on anyone—whispered warnings in the back of your mind.

Still, there was something about Logan that made you want to take the risk.

“Yeah,” you finally replied, setting the plate aside and meeting his gaze. “I guess I do.”

Logan nodded as if he’d expected your answer. “I’ll wait outside,” he said, turning to leave before you could say anything more.

You quickly finished up your tasks, your mind racing. There was something about Logan—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on—that both intrigued and unsettled you.

You clocked out, grabbed your things, and headed outside, where Logan was leaning against his truck, hands in his pockets. The early evening air was cool, the sky tinged with the pinks and purples of a setting sun.

“Ready?” he asked as you approached, his tone casual, but his eyes still held that same unreadable depth.

“Yeah,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

You climbed into the truck, the door creaking in protest. Logan started the engine, and the familiar rumble filled the cab. For a few moments, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only by the sound of tires on asphalt as he pulled out of the diner’s parking lot.

As he drove down the winding road toward your place, you stole glances at him, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Logan. There was so much you didn’t know about him, and yet, there was a strange sense of comfort in his presence.

Finally, you broke the silence. “Thanks for this. I wasn’t sure how I was going to get home.”

“Least I could do,” he replied, eyes fixed on the road. 

You nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “Why’d you come back?” 

Logan glanced at you briefly before returning his attention to the road. “Figured you’d need help getting home.”

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before your place came into view. You directed him to pull into the driveway, the truck coming to a stop with a low rumble. Neither of you made a move to get out right away.

“Thanks again, Logan,” you said, your voice softer now, almost reluctant to let go of this strange, unexpected connection.

He nodded, finally turning to meet your gaze. “It was no trouble,” he said, his tone light, though there was a flicker of something more in his eyes. You hesitated, your hand resting on the door handle, sensing he had something else to say. His lips parted slightly as if weighing the words.

“I got a job,” he said, almost as if testing how it would sound out loud.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “That’s great! I guess I’ll be seeing you in more plaid then.”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “How did you know?”

You returned the smile. “Most men around here are lumberjacks. It’s the best work.”

Logan’s smile lingered for a moment before he turned his gaze back to the windshield. “Yeah, lumberjacking,” he said as if trying on the word for size. “It’s honest work. Keeps you busy.”

“Hard work, too,” you added, leaning back in your seat, feeling a mix of relief and something you couldn’t quite name. “But I guess that’s what you’re looking for.”

He nodded, the lightness in his voice giving way to something more serious. “Keeps me out of trouble,” he said, though there was an edge to his tone, a hint of the trouble he was alluding to.

We both fell silent again, the air thick with unspoken words. There was so much you wanted to ask him, to understand about this man who had somehow become a part of your life in a single day. But you held back, knowing that pushing too hard could drive him away.

Instead, you settled for something simpler. “Well, if you ever need a good meal after a long day, you know where to find me.”

He looked over at you, his expression softening. “I might just take you up on that,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth that surprised you.

You smiled, feeling a strange comfort in the idea of seeing him again. “I’ll hold you to it.”

With that, the moment passed, and you both knew it was time to part ways. You reached for the door handle again, this time more decisively. “Good luck with the job, Logan,” you said as you stepped out of the truck, the cool evening air brushing against your skin.

“Thanks,” he replied, watching you for a moment longer before turning his gaze back to the windshield. “Be more careful.”

You nodded, closing the door behind you, and watched as he pulled out of your driveway, the truck’s taillights glowing faintly in the gathering dusk. You stood there for a moment, your hands in your pockets, feeling the quiet of the evening settle around you.

As the sound of his truck faded into the distance, you couldn’t help but wonder what tomorrow would bring. There was a sense of change in the air, a feeling that your life was shifting in ways you hadn’t anticipated. But for once, it didn’t scare you. Instead, it filled you with cautious hope, the kind that made you think maybe, just maybe, you were done running.

You turned and headed toward your front door, a small smile playing on your lips. Whatever was coming, you felt ready to face it—one day at a time.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

Sunlight peeked through your curtains as you sat up in bed, stifling a yawn. The quiet of living surrounded by nothing but forest filled your ears—an almost tangible silence—until it was broken by a sudden knock at the door.

You groaned, reluctantly crawling out of bed to throw on an oversized shirt before heading to the front door. Cautiously, you peered through the peephole and saw Logan standing there, fidgeting slightly. He wore a dark blue plaid shirt, the top few buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of his chest.

Your brows knitted together in confusion as you wondered what he was doing here, especially this early. Slowly, you unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Hey,” you greeted him, crossing your arms, both curious and guarded.

His eyes wandered over you, his brow lifting in question. “You’re not ready?”

“Why would I be?” you replied, confusion clouding your features as you looked up at him.

“I thought you might need a ride to work again,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes searching yours for a reaction.

“Oh, I should’ve told you yesterday—I’m off today. Sorry about that,” you said, a hint of embarrassment creeping into your voice. 

He nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “No worries. I was just passing by.”

“Shouldn’t you be chopping down trees?” you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Logan chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “You caught me. I’m on my way now. Just thought I’d see if you needed a ride.” 

The gesture took you by surprise. It was small, but it hinted at a concern that you weren’t used to, especially from someone you’d only just met. “That’s... really nice of you,” you said, dropping your arms to your sides, your guard softening a bit more.

He shrugged, though the smile lingered. “Figure it’s the least I can do after yesterday.”

You nodded, appreciating his thoughtfulness more than you expected. “Well, I appreciate it.”

There was a brief, comfortable silence between you, the kind that felt less like an ending and more like a pause—like there was more to say, but neither of you was quite ready to say it.

“So, you gonna be okay without a car?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

You glanced back toward the driveway, where your car sat after being towed home, still banged up from the other day. “I’ll have to get it towed into town,” you said, a hint of frustration in your voice. “But I’ll manage.”

Logan nodded. “If you need help with that, just let me know. I’ve got some tools, could take a look or maybe once I make some money I could help you buy a new one.”

“Thanks,” you replied, touched by his offer. “You’ve done a lot already.”

“Alright, I’ll let you get back to your day. Don’t wanna keep you.”

You gave him a small smile, feeling an unexpected reluctance to see him go. “Good luck with the trees.”

He chuckled, the sound easing the lingering tension. “Yeah, thanks. Take care, okay?”

“You too, Logan,” you said, watching as he turned and walked back to his truck.

As he drove away, you stood there for a moment, feeling the warmth of the morning sun on your face. The encounter had left you with a strange mixture of emotions—gratitude, curiosity, and a faint sense of anticipation. Logan was becoming more than just the stranger who had helped you out. He was someone you were beginning to feel connected to, in a way that both excited and unnerved you.

With a deep breath, you turned back inside, closing the door behind you. 

You hadn’t expected to see Logan again so soon. Your day had been busy—cleaning the house, flipping through the phonebook, and using the landline to call local mechanics. The morning slipped into the evening quickly, the hours blurring together in a steady rhythm of tasks.

You had just finished making dinner, the scent of food filling the kitchen, a beer in hand, when a familiar knock echoed through the quiet, catching you off guard. Quickly, you made your way to the door, a sense of recognition washing over you—Logan. You could tell it was him even before you opened it, just from the energy he brought with him. 

“Hello again,” you greeted him with a grin, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I guess you just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

Logan chuckled, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint smile. “Maybe,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes still holding that intensity you were starting to get used to. “Or maybe I just figured I’d check in. See how you’re doing.”

You raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider his words. “So, you’re playing the concerned neighbor now?” you teased, though you couldn’t deny the warmth his gesture stirred within you.

“Something like that,” he said, leaning slightly against the doorframe opposite you. “Plus, I figured you might need some help with your car.”

“I wasn’t expecting a mechanic at my door, but I’m not complaining,” you said, your grin widening. “Dinner’s just about ready. If you don’t mind a little company while you wait, you’re welcome to stay.”

Logan hesitated for a moment as if weighing his options. “I wouldn’t want to impose,” he finally said, though his eyes betrayed a hint of interest.

“It’s no imposition,” you assured him. “Consider it my way of saying thanks for the ride yesterday—and for coming back today.”

He nodded, accepting your invitation with a small, grateful smile. “Alright then,” he said. “I could use a good meal.”

You stepped aside, letting him in. As he walked past you into the warm, cozy kitchen, you noticed the subtle tension in his posture ease slightly, as if the atmosphere of your home provided a welcome change from whatever he was used to.

“Make yourself comfortable,” you said, gesturing toward the small dining table. “I’ll grab you a plate.”

Logan took a seat, glancing around the kitchen as if taking in the details. “Smells good,” he remarked, his voice softer now, less guarded.

“Thanks,” you replied, setting a plate in front of him before sitting down across from him. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’ll fill you up.”

He nodded, picking up his fork and taking a bite. For a few moments, the two of you ate in comfortable silence, the quiet punctuated only by the clinking of silverware. There was something oddly intimate about the moment—sharing a meal, the easy quiet between you. It felt natural like this wasn’t the first time you’d sat across from each other at the table.

After a while, Logan looked up, his eyes meeting yours. “You didn’t have to invite me in, you know.”

You shrugged, offering a warm smile. “I know, but I wanted to.” You paused, setting your fork down. “Besides, you’re not as scary as you try to be.”

“Guess you’ve got me all figured out,” Logan replied, a playful glint in his eyes.

You watched him for a moment, the smile tugging at your lips growing a little wider. “Maybe,” you said with a teasing lilt. “Anyway, how was your first day? Chopping trees and all?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he considered your question. “It was… different,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s honest work. That counts for something, I suppose—more than what I used to do.”

There it was—a crack in his carefully constructed walls. A small, revealing glimpse into Logan’s past. But was it an invitation to know more or just a slip-up?

“I don’t know why I said that,” he admitted, shaking his head slightly as if trying to make sense of it himself. “Something about you… makes me want to spill my guts.”

You chuckled nervously, your lips pursed as you tried to process his unexpected admission. Logan’s eyes narrowed slightly, picking up on the shift in your demeanor as your gaze flickered away from his. “I have a way of soothing people—calming them down,” you offered, trying to deflect the tension.

His eyes studied you intently, a new spark of interest igniting. “You’re like me, aren’t you?” he asked quietly. “A mutant?”

You nodded, a wave of guilt washing over you. It felt like you’d been hiding something from Logan, even though he hadn’t asked directly. “Figures. I moved here to get away from being called a mutant, only to have one find me,” you said, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

“I ran because I didn’t fit in,” you admitted, your voice quieter now. “My parents… they didn’t understand. They wanted to fix me, cure this disease as they called it. So, I turned to people I thought did understand—other mutants. Except they didn’t just want to live in peace. They wanted to rebel. If humans didn’t understand us, then we’d make them.”

Logan’s expression hardened as you continued your story. “I thought I was making a positive change in the world. Who cared if people got hurt in the process, as long as we got what we wanted… power but I realized too late that wasn’t what I wanted to fight for. By then, I’d already created enemies, and killed innocent people—”

You trailed off, feeling your emotions spiral out of control, the weight of your past pressing down on you. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady yourself, pushing the memories back down. “Anyway,” you continued, “I ran. I ran for a long time until I found this place and decided to call it home.”

Logan shifted slightly in his chair, his hand instinctively reaching across the table, but you shook your head, stopping him. “I make you feel calm because that’s my gift,” you explained, your voice steady but laced with caution. “I do it without even realizing it. I can intensify any emotion, and if I were to touch you… I’d feel your strongest emotion and amplify it. The same goes for memories. I can change the emotions you felt, manipulate them.”

Logan’s hand froze mid-reach, his expression hardening as he processed what you’d just said. His eyes, which had been soft with concern moments ago, now held a flicker of something else—wary curiosity, maybe even fear.

“You can change memories?” he asked, his voice low, almost as if he was testing the words on his tongue.

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy with the truth you’d just revealed. “It’s not something I do lightly,” you said, trying to ease the tension you felt building between you. “I’ve learned to control it, to keep my distance when I need to but the ability is always there, under the surface.”

Logan’s gaze bore into you, searching for something—reassurance, perhaps, or maybe the boundaries of your power. “So, if you wanted to… you could make me feel something that never happened?”

“Or change how you feel about something that did,” you admitted, feeling a pang of guilt at how vulnerable that made him. “But I wouldn’t. Not without reason. It’s not who I want to be.”

He leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable, a long silence stretching between you. It was the kind of silence that felt like a crossroads—where trust could either be built or shattered.

Finally, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “That’s a lot of power to carry around,” he said, his tone softer now, less guarded.

“It is,” you agreed, relief washing over you as you saw the tension in him ease. “It’s why I’ve been so careful. Why I ran. I didn’t want to hurt anyone anymore.”

Logan nodded, his gaze softening again as he looked at you, understanding beginning to replace the earlier wariness. “It sounds like you’ve been carrying this burden for a long time.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “Yeah,” you said quietly. “Too long.”

There was another pause, this one less tense, more contemplative. Logan seemed to be weighing something in his mind, his eyes studying you with a depth that made your heart race.

“I guess we’ve both got our share of secrets,” he finally said, his tone almost resigned, as if accepting the complexity of what lay between you.

You offered him a small, tentative smile. “It’s not easy to trust, but I can sense you understand better than anyone.”

He nodded a flicker of hesitation in his gaze. “Yeah. I guess this is the part where I tell you why I’m here?”

“Only if you want to,” you replied, giving him a small shrug. “We don’t have to swap war stories just because I told you mine.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, his gaze dropping to the table as if he were searching for the right words. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the internal struggle of whether to share what he’d kept hidden for so long. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he began to speak, his voice low and gravelly.

“My brother and I… we’ve been fighting our whole lives,” he started, his tone resigned but tinged with a weariness that spoke of years of battles, both literal and figurative. “We’ve fought in every major war you’ve heard of, and plenty you haven’t. We’re old—older than you’d believe. Back then, it felt like fighting was all we knew, all we were good at.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. You didn’t press him, sensing that this was as difficult for him as your story had been for you.

“After the Vietnam War ended, things changed,” he continued, his voice taking on a darker edge. “We were approached by a group—a mutant group called Team X. They promised us purpose, a place where we could belong. We were soldiers, after all, and that’s what we did best. My brother, Victor, was all in from the start. He always had a taste for violence, even when it wasn’t necessary. He thrived in that environment.”

Logan’s expression tightened, a flicker of pain crossing his features as he spoke about his brother. “But me… I started to see things differently. Team X wasn’t just about fighting battles—they were about control, about power at any cost. And Victor… he embraced that. Started killing people just because he could, because it made him feel strong. Innocent people. I couldn’t be a part of that.”

He looked up at you then, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and resolve. “So I walked away. Left the team, and left my brother. Tried to find some kind of peace, if that’s even possible for someone like me. But Victor… he didn’t stop. He kept going, kept killing, and I’ve been running from it ever since.”

You watched him in silence, the weight of his confession heavy between you. It was clear that Logan carried the scars of his past deeply, that his brother’s betrayal had cut him in ways that were hard to put into words.

“I guess that’s why I’m here,” he said, his voice softening. “Looking for a place to hide, to forget. But it’s not so easy, is it? No matter how far you run, the past has a way of catching up.”

You nodded, understanding all too well the truth in his words. “No, it’s not easy,” you agreed quietly. “But it sounds like you made the right choice. Walking away, even when it cost you everything.”

Logan looked at you, the corners of his mouth twitching into something that might have been a smile, though it was more sadness than anything else. “Maybe…but it doesn’t change what happened. Doesn’t change who I am.”

“I guess that makes two of us,” you replied, your voice soft but steady.

There was a long pause as the two of you sat there, letting the weight of what had been shared settle between you. It was a strange feeling, this mutual vulnerability. You had each opened up parts of yourselves that were usually kept hidden, and in doing so, had created a bond—fragile, but undeniably real.

The two of you sat there for a moment longer, letting the words linger in the air, before Logan finally stood up, pushing his chair back with a gentle scrape. “I should probably get going,” he said, though his voice was reluctant.

You nodded, standing up as well. “Yeah, big day tomorrow,” you said, offering him a genuine smile. “And thanks for stopping by. Don’t worry about fixing my car—I know you were lying about stopping to save the squirrel.”

Logan chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, you caught me,” he admitted, a playful glint in his eyes. “I figured the squirrel excuse was better than admitting you were the one who rear-ended me.” 

You shook your head, amused by his honesty. You felt a warmth spread through you as he headed for the door but before he opened it, he paused, glancing back at you. “You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, your tone light but sincere.

Logan nodded, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer as if he was weighing whether or not to say something else. But instead, he simply gave you a small, reassuring smile. “Alright then. I’ll see you in the morning unless your car magically fixes itself.”

“Okay.” you smiled, watching as he finally turned the knob and stepped out into the cool night air.

You stood by the door for a moment after he left, listening to the fading sound of his truck as it rumbled down the driveway and disappeared into the distance. The house felt quiet and still, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that made you uneasy. Instead, it felt like the calm after a storm—a moment of peace after the intensity of what had been shared.

As you turned away from the door and began to tidy up the kitchen, you couldn’t help but reflect on how much had changed in such a short amount of time. Logan’s unexpected presence in your life had stirred up feelings and memories you’d long tried to bury, but it had also given you something else—hope. Hope that you weren’t as alone as you’d always believed and that maybe, just maybe, there was a way to find peace with your past.

You sighed, leaning against the counter as you thought back to the conversation you’d had. The way Logan had opened up to you about his brother, about the wars and the pain he carried—it resonated with you in a way that few things ever had. There was a part of you that wanted to help him carry that burden, to share in the weight of it, just as he’d seemed willing to do with yours.

But you knew it wouldn’t be easy. Trust was a fragile thing, easily broken and difficult to rebuild. Yet, as you stood there in the quiet of your kitchen, you found yourself more willing to take that risk than you’d ever been before.

With a final glance at the door, you turned off the lights and headed to bed, feeling a strange mixture of exhaustion and anticipation. Tomorrow was a new day, and while you didn’t know exactly what it would bring, you felt more prepared to face it.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

A month had passed, and your whole life had changed. Logan showed up every morning to pick you up and drop you off at work. With him around, fixing your car seemed unnecessary. On your days off, he’d come over after his work, and the two of you would share dinner.

You began to forget what life was like before he showed up. The days without him seemed distant, almost unreal as if they belonged to someone else’s story. Logan had become woven into the fabric of your everyday life, making the idea of going back to how things were feel impossible.

It wasn’t just the routines that had changed—it was everything. The quiet of your home no longer felt lonely, the days were filled with a sense of purpose, and the nights were shared with someone who understood the weight of your past. Logan wasn’t just a part of your life now; he was the anchor that kept you grounded.

The walls you’d once kept around your heart were slowly crumbling, and with each day that passed, you found yourself opening up to Logan more and more. He, in turn, shared pieces of his life with you—stories about his past, his experiences, and even his fears. The trust between you grew, a steady bond that neither of you took for granted.

One evening, after another quiet dinner, the two of you found yourselves lingering at the table, the conversation winding down but neither of you wanted to move. The night outside was still, the only sound was the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Logan broke the silence first. “You know,” he began, his voice soft, almost contemplative, “I never thought I’d find something like this.”

“Like what?” you asked, your curiosity piqued.

He looked at you, his expression serious yet warm. “This… peace. After everything I’ve been through, I didn’t think it was possible but you… you make it feel real like I can have a life without being a monster.”

“Logan. You aren’t a monster.” You said reaching across the table to gently take his hand. “We did what we thought was best and sometimes our best is all we can do.” 

Logan nodded, softly rubbing his thumb against your skin in a comforting manner. You sighed, leaning closer to him wishing moments like this never had to end. “You know, I didn’t think it was possible either,” you admitted, your voice just as soft. “ To have a life without chaos but somehow, here we are.”

He smiled a genuine, heartfelt expression that made your chest tighten in the best possible way. “Yeah,” he said, his tone almost reverent. “Here we are.”

The moment hung between you, charged with an unspoken energy. Your gaze drifted to Logan’s lips, slightly parted, as his eyes darkened. “We shouldn’t,” you murmured, though your voice wavered. Despite your words, you found yourself leaning closer, your arm brushing against his.

Every instinct screamed at you to leap out of your chair, to break the tension by jumping into his lap in a sudden burst of energy, but you stayed planted, caught between desire and restraint. 

Logan’s gaze didn’t waver, his eyes still locked on yours. The air between you seemed to thrum with the tension of what wasn’t being said, the words tangled up with everything you both wanted but were too afraid to reach for. His arm brushed against yours again, the contact sending a jolt of warmth through you, grounding you in the moment.

“I know we shouldn’t,” Logan finally whispered, his voice rough and low, as if he were struggling with the same emotions that were swirling inside you. “But it’s hard… being this close and pretending there’s nothing there.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath, but your pulse was racing, and it was getting harder to remember why you had even said those words in the first place. “Logan…”

He shifted closer, the movement slow, deliberate. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely sure he could. “Tell me, and I will.”

But you didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Instead, you found yourself leaning in, the pull between you undeniable, your lips almost brushing his. 

And then, before either of you could change your mind, the distance disappeared.

His lips met yours with a quiet intensity that made your heart skip a beat. The world around you seemed to blur, narrowing down to the sensation of his mouth on yours, the warmth of his touch as his hand found its way to the small of your back, drawing you closer.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the doubts, the fears, the reasons you’d given yourself to keep your distance. All that mattered was this, the connection you’d been dancing around for weeks now, finally igniting.

You felt yourself relax into the kiss, your hand moving up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was real, and for the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe this was okay—that maybe, in Logan’s arms, you could find something good, something that wouldn’t be taken away by the past.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, you found Logan’s gaze on you, his eyes still dark but now filled with something softer—something that spoke of promises and a future that, for the first time, didn’t feel quite so uncertain.

“We should take this slow,” you managed to say, your voice a whisper, still trying to catch your breath.

Logan nodded, a small, understanding smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah,” he agreed, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “Slow is good. We’ve got time.”

You nodded too, feeling a sense of relief mixed with excitement. “Time,” you echoed, letting the word settle between you, a reminder that there was no need to rush—no need to force what was already building naturally between you.

Logan held his forehead against yours, his breath warm and steady, mingling with your own. For a long moment, neither of you moved, content to stay in that stillness, where words weren’t needed. It felt like the world outside had faded away, leaving just the two of you and the quiet connection you shared.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to be fully present in the moment. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the strength in his arms as they wrapped around you, and the calm that settled over you as you breathed in his scent—earthy, familiar, grounding.

“I’ve been alone for so long,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that you felt more than heard. “I never thought… I never thought I’d find something like this. Like you.”

His words sent a warm flutter through your chest, a sensation that you weren’t entirely used to but were starting to crave. You opened your eyes, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. The vulnerability you saw there mirrored your own, and it made you want to hold on to him even tighter.

“You’re not alone anymore,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you.

Logan’s eyes softened, and he nodded slightly as if acknowledging a truth that had taken him a long time to accept. “I know,” he said quietly, his hand moving up to gently cup the side of your face.

You leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his palm against your cheek, the comfort of his presence. It was a simple gesture, but it carried the weight of everything you both had been through—your pasts, your fears, your hopes for what might come next.

Eventually, Logan pulled back slightly, his hand still lingering on your cheek. “I should probably go,” he said, though there was a hint of reluctance in his voice.

You sighed, a wave of sadness washing over you. “Why don’t you stay? Please stay.”

He chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow. “What happened to taking it slow?”

“I’m not asking you to move in,” you replied with a small smile. “I bet you would get a better night's sleep here than at your place.”

Logan’s gaze softened, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. “I can’t. If I stay… I don’t think I can control myself.”

You held his gaze, your heart fluttering at the intensity in his eyes. “I trust you, Logan,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside you. “But I understand.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, his eyes searching yours as if weighing his options. The air between you felt thick with unspoken words, with the tension of wanting something you both knew you needed to be careful with.

Finally, he sighed, a mix of frustration and restraint in his breath. “It’s not about trust,” he murmured, his voice rough. “It’s about wanting you too much, too soon.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of disappointment but also a sense of respect for his honesty. “Oh,” you whispered, not pushing any further. “Goodnight, Logan.”

His gaze softened further, and with a gentle touch, he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in. His lips pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, a silent promise of patience and understanding.

“Goodnight,” he whispered back, his voice barely above a breath, before he finally stepped back, his hand trailing down your arm as he moved toward the door.

As he opened it, the cool night air rushed in stark contrast to the warmth that had filled the room moments before. You watched as he paused in the doorway, glancing back at you one last time, a small, almost reluctant smile on his lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, a promise in his tone.

“I’ll be here,” you replied, your voice steady, though your heart ached just a little as you watched him leave.

When the door closed behind him, the room felt emptier, the silence heavier. However, as you climbed into bed, pulling the covers up around you, you let yourself drift off to sleep with a smile on your face, the memory of Logan’s touch lingering on your skin like a promise.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of Logan’s truck pulling into the driveway. A familiar warmth spread through you at the thought of seeing him again. You dressed quickly, eager to be near him.

When you opened the door, Logan was already standing there, leaning against the side of his truck with his hands in his pockets. As you approached, he looked up, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Morning,” he greeted you, his voice warm but carrying a hint of something more—something that lingered from the night before.

“Morning,” you replied, matching his smile. Without hesitation, he pushed himself off the truck and pulled you into an embrace, pressing a soft kiss to your head.

“Why don’t you drive me to work and then use my truck to do whatever you want,” Logan suggested, his eyes meeting yours as you looked up at him.

You chuckled, the idea warming you. “Not much to do around here, but I’ll take you up on that offer.”

The drive was longer than you expected, but it gave you time to talk. Logan kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting comfortably on your thigh, his focus mostly on the road ahead. Now and then, he’d glance over at you, a small smile tugging at his lips, as if he couldn’t help but be reassured by your presence.

When you arrived at the lumberyard, Logan parked the truck and turned to face you. “I left some money in the glovebox for you.”

“Gee, maybe I can find something nice to buy,” you teased, leaning toward him with a playful grin.

Logan smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement as he leaned in closer, closing the small distance between you. “Just don’t spend it all in one place,” he quipped, his voice low and teasing.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face gave away your amusement. “I’ll try to restrain myself,” you replied, the playful banter making the moment feel light and easy.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the proximity sparking a quiet tension between you. His gaze flickered down to your lips, and you could feel your heart start to race.

Logan hesitated, then pulled back slightly, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “I should get going,” he said, his voice still warm but now edged with the responsibility of the day ahead. “Don’t want to be late.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from asking him to stay. Logan reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your cheek, a tender touch that sent a shiver down your spine before he pulled away entirely. With one last lingering look, he opened the door and stepped out of the truck.

You cursed under your breath, sliding over to the driver's side and jumping out. “Logan,” you called, your voice urgent. He stopped in his tracks, turning around just as you reached him. Before he could say a word, you grabbed him by the neck, pulling him toward you, your lips crashing against his.

Logan stiffened for a brief moment, caught off guard by the suddenness of your kiss, but then he melted into it, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the cool morning air, locked in a kiss that spoke of all the unspoken emotions that had been simmering between you.

His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that contrasted with the urgency of the moment as if he was trying to savor every second. You could feel the warmth of his breath, the steady beat of his heart as it pressed against your chest, and the way his hands tightened slightly on your waist, grounding you in the reality of what was happening.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, Logan’s eyes searched yours, a mix of surprise, desire, and something deeper that neither of you had put into words yet. His forehead rested against yours as both of you tried to catch your breath.

“What was that for?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, though the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

You smiled, your breath coming in soft gasps. “Just… couldn’t let you walk away without doing that.”

His smile widened, and he leaned in, pressing another brief, tender kiss to your lips, this one softer, less urgent but no less meaningful. “I’m not complaining,” he murmured, his voice warm with affection.

“Have a good day,” you replied, your voice steady.

Logan nodded, his hand coming up to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “I will thanks to you.” 

Logan glanced at the lumberyard behind him, a reminder of the day ahead. “I do have to go,” he said, regret lacing his words.

You nodded, stepping back to give him space. “I know. I’ll see you later.”

He hesitated for a second, then gave you a final, lingering look before turning and walking away, his strides confident but with an underlying reluctance, as if leaving you was the last thing he wanted to do.

As you climbed back into the truck, the taste of his lips still lingering on yours, a smile tugged at your lips. You turned your attention to the glovebox, opening it to find a small stack of bills. He didn’t have to leave you money, but it was a thoughtful gesture—one that showed just how much he cared.

Starting the truck, you pulled out of the parking lot, feeling a sense of peace as the early morning light cast a warm glow over the landscape. There wasn’t much to do in town, but the idea of having a little time to yourself—and the freedom of Logan’s truck at your disposal—felt like a small adventure in itself.

As you drove, your thoughts drifted to how much had changed in such a short time. Logan had become an integral part of your life, his presence comforting and constant. The days of feeling isolated and alone were fading into the background, replaced by the warmth of connection and the promise of something more.

By the time you reached the small town center, you had a few ideas on how to spend your morning. You parked the truck and stepped out, breathing in the crisp air as you glanced around. The shops were just beginning to open, and you decided to take a stroll down the main street.

You wandered past the general store, the hardware shop, and the small café that was starting to fill with its usual morning crowd. Something was charming about the simplicity of it all, something that put you at ease.

The day passed quickly, the hours slipping by as you wandered through the town, enjoying the simple pleasure of a day to yourself. As the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, you found yourself thinking about Logan and the quiet, comforting moments you’d shared that morning. A thought crossed your mind, and a small smile spread across your face.

With the money Logan had left in the glovebox, you decided to treat him to something special—a nice dinner for the two of you. It wasn’t much, but it was a way to show your appreciation for everything he’d done, for the way he’d been there for you, even in such a short time.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

After getting back home, you started on dinner while Logan went to take a shower. You thought you had more time, but soon enough, Logan stepped into the kitchen, looking pleasantly surprised to find you bustling around. “What’s all this?” he asked, his voice filled with curiosity and warmth.

You turned to face him, noticing his hair still slightly damp. “I decided to use the money you left me to treat us to a nice dinner. I hope you’re hungry.”

A grin spread across Logan’s face as he walked over to you, his eyes filled with appreciation. “This smells amazing,” he said, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I wanted to,” you replied, feeling a warmth spread through you at his touch. “It’s my way of saying thank you—for everything.”

Logan’s gaze softened, and he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m the one who should be thanking you,” he said quietly. “But let’s call it even.”

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with the clinking of dishes as you finished setting the table. “Deal. Now, sit down.” You teased, gesturing toward the chair. 

As the two of you sat down to dinner, the evening unfolded in a series of easy, comfortable moments—laughter, conversation, and the simple pleasure of sharing a meal with someone you cared about. The connection between you felt even stronger, the bond deepening with each shared word, and each exchanged a glance.

By the time the meal was finished, the night felt like a warm, enveloping blanket, wrapping the two of you in its embrace. Logan reached across the table, taking your hand in his, and you could feel the strength and tenderness in his grip.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice soft but filled with meaning. “For this. For everything.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection as you pressed your lips gently to his hand. “I want you to stay tonight,” you whispered, the words carrying both vulnerability and hope.

Logan’s eyes softened as he gazed at you, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just looked at you as if trying to memorize every detail of your face. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and steady, full of quiet sincerity.

“I want that too,” he admitted, his words heavy with the weight of the decision. “More than you know.”

Relief washed over you, mingling with the warmth that had been building between you all evening. The simple act of asking him to stay had felt monumental, and now, with his answer, it felt like something had clicked into place—something that had been hovering just out of reach, now within your grasp.

Logan stood up slowly, his hand still holding yours as he walked around the table to stand beside you. He helped you to your feet, and for a moment, you just stood there, facing each other in the soft glow of the kitchen lights. The world outside felt distant, and irrelevant, as if the only thing that mattered was the two of you, here and now.

Without another word, Logan pulled you into his arms, holding you close. You could feel the steady beat of his heart against your chest and could sense the calm that had settled over him. You knew this was a big step for both of you, but it felt right—like it was the natural progression of everything that had been building between you.

His hand moved to cup your face, tilting it up so he could look into your eyes. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as if giving you one last chance to change your mind.

You nodded, your lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “I’m sure, Logan. I want this.”

His eyes darkened slightly, with something deeper, more intense. Then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed you—softly at first, then with more urgency as the reality of the moment sank in. The kiss was full of unspoken promises, trust and desire, and everything that had been simmering between you.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, you didn’t need to say anything. The decision had already been made.

“I’ll clean this up later,” Logan said softly, his voice low and filled with warmth. “But right now, I just need you, sweetheart.”

He took your hand, leading you out of the kitchen and down the hallway to your bedroom. The night outside was dark, the world quiet, as the two of you stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind you.

The space felt different now—more intimate, more charged with the energy of what was about to happen. You stood together in the dim light, your hands still intertwined, and for a moment, you just looked at each other, letting the anticipation build.

Then Logan moved closer, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you against him. His touch was gentle, but there was an undercurrent of desire that made your pulse quicken. Slowly, he began to lift your shirt over your head, his movements careful and deliberate, as if savoring every moment.

“I’ll go slow unless you tell me otherwise,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin.

You smiled against his lips as your fingers worked to remove his shirt. He slipped it over his head, then cupped your face with both hands, his touch tender yet filled with intent.

“Just touch me, Logan,” you whispered, your voice carrying a mixture of need and trust. You had wanted this moment for a while, imagining how Logan’s hands would feel on you, how he would make you feel. After that kiss earlier, you knew there was no reason to hold back. Why take things slow when everything about this felt so right?

Logan’s gaze darkened with desire at your words, and he let out a quiet breath as if releasing the last of his restraint. “You’re so beautiful,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. His hands moved over your skin with a mix of reverence and urgency, as if savoring each touch but also needing more, needing all of you.

His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as he explored your body, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin as though committing them to memory.

Logan’s lips found yours again, the kiss deep and unrestrained, reflecting the intensity of everything that had been building between you. His hands roamed over you with more confidence now, as if your words had unlocked something inside him, permitting him to show you just how much he wanted you.

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart?” Logan murmured, his voice thick with desire as his lips trailed hot kisses down your neck, each one igniting a deeper longing within you.

In response, you pushed him back toward the bed, a determined glint in your eyes. Logan allowed himself to be guided, his breath hitching as you climbed on top of him, your hands pressing against his chest to steady yourself.

“I want you,” you whispered, your voice steady and filled with intent. “I want all of you.”

Logan’s eyes darkened with a mix of surprise and pleasure, his hands instinctively gripping your hips, pulling you closer as he settled beneath you. The roles had shifted, and you reveled in the feeling of taking control, of showing him just how much you wanted this—wanted him.

“Then take it,” Logan rasped, his voice rough with desire as he met your gaze. “I’m yours.”

His breath came in ragged gasps as your hands traveled down his chest, stopping at the waistband of his sweats. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the hardness beneath you driving your own need to a fever pitch. The anticipation sent a shiver down your spine, and you clenched around nothing, the ache for him growing more intense with every passing second.

Logan’s hands tightened on your hips, his eyes darkening as he watched you, his control slipping as your fingers toyed with the edge of his sweatpants.

“Don’t stop,” Logan whispered, his voice hoarse, filled with both a plea and a command. His vulnerability in that moment, paired with the raw power he exuded, only made you want him more.

With a steadying breath, you slipped your fingers beneath the waistband, slowly easing his sweats down, revealing the full extent of his arousal. Logan groaned, his head tipping back against the pillow, the sound sending a rush of heat through you.

Your hands shook slightly, not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of what was happening. You’d both been building to this moment for so long and now that it was here, it felt almost surreal, too powerful.

You gently wrapped your hand around his cock, stroking it slowly, deliberately, just enough to tease him. The feeling of him in your hand, hard and heavy, sent a jolt of desire straight through you, making your breath hitch.

Logan’s reaction was immediate. His hands slid up your thighs, his touch firm but reverent until they gripped your hips with a need that matched your own. His fingers dug into your skin, holding you in place as his hips bucked slightly into your hand, a low growl escaping his lips.

“Fuck,” Logan breathed out, his voice thick with pleasure and restraint. His eyes, half-lidded with desire, locked onto yours, a silent plea and command mixed. “Don’t tease me.”

But the teasing was half the fun, the control you had over him intoxicating. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “I want to make you feel good.”

His grip on your hips tightened, and you could feel the tension in his body, coiled and ready to spring. But for now, you relished the control you had over him, the way you could make him unravel with just a touch.

But the need building within you was undeniable, and as much as you enjoyed teasing him, you wanted more. You wanted to feel him, to have him inside you, to bridge the gap that had been between you for far too long.

“Logan…” you murmured, your voice a mix of desire and pleading. “I need you.”

His response was immediate and primal, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he shifted beneath you, flipping you onto your back with a swiftness that took your breath away. He settled between your legs, his hands framing your face, his eyes burning with intent before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Then take me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours as he positioned himself at your entrance. “All of me.”

His hands then worked to pull down your panties revealing your needy cunt and with one fluid motion, he pushed into you, filling you completely, the connection between you snapping into place as if it had been meant to be all along. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve in your body alive with the intensity of it.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as you both moved together, the rhythm natural and instinctive. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, the pressure building inside you with a fierce intensity, mirrored in the way Logan’s grip tightened on your hips.

“Logan,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure surged through you. “Don’t stop,” you cried, your body trembling as you clenched around him, desperate for more.

Logan’s breath hitched, and you could feel him shudder above you, every muscle in his body tense as he fought to hold back. His voice was a low growl, rough with desire and restraint. “Don’t cum for me yet, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I want to taste you.”

The promise in his words sent a jolt of anticipation through you, and your breath caught in your throat as you nodded, trusting him completely. Logan’s pace slowed, his movements deliberate as he pulled out of you, leaving you aching and yearning for his touch.

He kissed his way down your body, his lips trailing over your skin, each touch igniting a new wave of heat inside you. By the time he reached the apex of your thighs, you were trembling with need, your body taut with anticipation.

Logan glanced up at you, his eyes dark and hungry, as if savoring the sight of you laid out before him. He pressed a lingering kiss to your inner thigh, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and desire.

And then he was there, his mouth on you, his tongue tracing slow, tantalizing circles that made your whole body arch off the bed. The sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure so intense that you could barely think, could barely breathe. You clutched at the sheets, your moans filling the room as Logan devoured you, his touch both gentle and insistent, driving you closer to the edge with every flick of his tongue.

He was relentless, his mouth working you with a skill that left you shaking, your entire being focused on the pleasure he was giving you. The tension inside you coiled tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

“Logan,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “I—I can’t…” Your thighs pressed against the sides of his head. He moaned into you as if he wanted to be suffocated by you. 

Logan didn’t stop. Instead, he redoubled his efforts, his tongue moving faster, his hands tightening on your hips as he held you in place. “Let go for me,” he murmured against you, his voice sending vibrations through your core. “I want to taste you.”

His words were your undoing. With a cry, you came undone, your release crashing over you in a wave that left you breathless, your body shaking uncontrollably as you found your peak. Logan didn’t let up, drawing out your orgasm until you were left gasping, your entire body trembling in the aftermath.

Only then did he pull back, kissing his way up your body until he was hovering over you again, his lips capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss that tasted of you. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve thought about this for so long.”

You smiled against his lips, your fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer. “Me too,” you murmured, still breathless, your heart full of everything you felt for him.

Logan kissed you again, his hands roaming over your body with a renewed sense of urgency. He shifted, lifting your legs higher and positioning himself between your thighs, his cock teasing your entrance.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice a mix of longing and need, your hips instinctively arching toward him.

His eyes met yours, dark and intense, as he paused, savoring the moment. “I need to feel you cum with me inside you,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. 

Slowly, he began to press into you, the sensation making you gasp as he stretched you. Logan’s gaze never left yours as he pushed deeper, his movements slow and deliberate, ensuring you felt every moment of it.

Your breath hitched, a soft moan escaping your lips as he bottomed out inside you, the sensation overwhelming in the best possible way. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back, giving you a moment to adjust, to fully take him in.

“God, you’re perfect,” Logan groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he began to move, setting a rhythm that was both slow and powerful, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The feeling of him moving within you was intoxicating, every nerve in your body lighting up with pleasure. “Your little cunt just begging for more.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, urging him on as the need inside you built to an unbearable level. Each stroke pushed you higher, the pleasure coiling tighter within you, ready to snap.

“Faster,” you whispered, your voice breathless, your nails digging into his shoulders as you clung to him. “Please, Logan…”

Logan’s restraint shattered at your plea, his pace quickening as he drove into you with a newfound urgency, his grip on your hips tightening. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your gasps and his low, rough moans, creating a symphony of pure, unbridled passion.

The pleasure was overwhelming, each thrust sending you spiraling closer to your release. You could feel Logan’s control slipping, the tension in his body mirroring your own as he neared his climax.

“Come with me,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “I want to feel you cum around me.”

His words sent you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a force that left you trembling beneath him. You cried out his name, your body tightening around him as the waves of pleasure pulsed through you.

Logan followed you into oblivion, his release tearing through him as he buried himself deep inside you, his body shuddering as he let go. He groaned your name, his voice filled with raw emotion as he spilled into you, the intensity of it leaving him breathless.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you lost in the aftershocks of what you’d just shared. Your hearts pounded in sync, your breaths mingling as you held each other close, the connection between you stronger than ever.

Finally, Logan lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a softness that took your breath away. He brushed his thumb across your cheek, his touch gentle and reverent.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe and affection.

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man above you. “I love you too,” you replied, your voice soft but heavy with the weight of everything you felt for him.

Logan’s eyes shone with emotion as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, his warmth enveloping you as he held you. The rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear, steady and strong, lulled you into a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in a long time.

As you drifted off to sleep in his embrace, you knew that this was where you were meant to be—with him, surrounded by a love that felt real.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

“Logan?” you mumbled, turning over. Your hands fumbled around the bed, searching for Logan, but all you found was the lingering warmth he had left behind.

You sat up, sleepiness still clouding your eyes as you looked around the room, the eerie silence ringing in your ears. Slowly, you got out of bed and walked out of the bedroom, the soft glow of moonlight guiding you through the darkened hallway.

You knew Logan’s nightmares were bad. In the first few nights, he stayed over, he tried to hide them, keeping quiet and distant. Eventually, the truth became impossible to ignore. He would thrash under the covers, his body tense and restless, causing you to wake up and find him drenched in a cold sweat, haunted by whatever horrors his mind had conjured.

He was stubborn, refusing your help, convinced that he deserved the painful nightmares as a way to remind himself of who he was. No matter how many times you tried to reassure him, to tell him that he didn’t have to bear the weight of his past alone, Logan was resolute. He believed the nightmares were a punishment, a way to keep himself anchored to the man he once was, no matter how much pain they caused him. He would insist that they were his burden to bear, and he wouldn’t let you share in it, no matter how much you wanted to help.

It was frustrating, seeing him like this—tortured, stubborn, and determined to carry the weight of his guilt alone. Every night, you’d lie awake, listening to his breathing grow heavier, waiting for the moment when his dreams would turn into something darker, something that would tear him from sleep and leave him gasping for air.

He tried to put on a brave face during the day, but you could see the exhaustion etched into his features, the haunted look in his eyes that never fully went away. And yet, he wouldn’t let you in. He wouldn’t let you take any of the burden from his shoulders, even though it was clear that it was tearing him apart.

It never got easier to watch, especially now as you fumbled your way through the dark, desperate to find him. Your heart pounded in your chest, thoughts swirling as you entered the living room, hoping against hope that he’d be there.

It was empty.

“Logan?” you whispered, your voice trembling in the stillness, even though you knew deep down he wasn’t there.

Slowly, your feet padded against the wood floor toward the front door, which was slightly ajar. Your heart raced as it creaked open, the moonlight peeking through and casting eerie shadows on your face. For a split second, your heart stopped as you saw a figure standing outside, silhouetted against the night, gazing up at the sky.

However, you quickly realized it was Logan. His eyes were closed, his face peaceful as the cool breeze swirled around him. He was barefoot, wearing only sweats, as the moonlight bathed him in a soft, ethereal glow.

He turned toward you, a slight smile playing on his lips. “Come here,” he said, his voice gentle, inviting.

You stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin as you walked toward Logan. He opened his eyes, his smile fading slightly as you approached.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked softly, searching his face for any sign of what might be troubling him. “Was it the nightmares again?”

Logan nodded, his expression shifting from peaceful to guarded, the familiar shadows returning to his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmured, almost as if admitting it aloud made it worse. “They’re always there, waiting…”

You reached out, gently taking his hand in yours, offering him the comfort of your touch. “I can help you with them,” you whispered, your voice steady but tender. “You don’t have to go through it alone.”

Logan hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground as he weighed your words. “I don’t know…” he began, his voice trailing off. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. I don’t want you to see—”

You squeezed his hand, cutting him off gently. “Logan, you don’t have to protect me from this.  I’m not afraid of what you’ve been through. I just want to be there for you.” 

He looked up at you then, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and something close to fear. “What if it’s too much?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if… what if it changes the way you see me?”

You stepped closer, bringing his hand up to your chest, letting him feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. “Nothing will change the way I see you,” you said, your voice firm. “I love every part of you, Logan. Even the parts you think are too dark, too broken. Let me in. Let me help.”

“I’m not who you think I am,” he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. “The things I’ve done… I don’t deserve your love.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles. “You deserve love, Logan. You deserve peace. I’m not going anywhere, no matter what you think you deserve.”

Logan stared at you for a long moment, the internal battle clear in his eyes. Finally, he gave a slow, reluctant nod, though the tension in his body didn’t entirely ease. “Alright,” he whispered, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You smiled softly, lifting your hand to cup his cheek. “I love you,” you promised, your thumb brushing gently across his skin, a tender reminder of your unwavering support.

You held Logan’s gaze for a moment longer, letting the warmth of your touch seep into his skin, grounding him. Then, with a soft smile, you gently guided him back inside the house, the night air giving way to the comforting stillness of your home.

Once in the bedroom, you pulled back the covers and motioned for Logan to lie down beside you. He hesitated for a brief second, the tension still lingering in his shoulders, but then he did as you asked, trusting you with the parts of him that were still so fragile.

You lay down next to him, pressing your body close to his, reassuring him of your presence. His breathing was still uneven, the remnants of his turmoil evident in the tightness of his muscles.

Slowly, you reached out and placed your hand on his chest, over his heart, feeling the steady thrum beneath your palm. Closing your eyes, you let your power flow through you, focusing on the connection between you and Logan. It was an ability you had refined over the years, learning to use it not just to bring back memories, but to soothe and calm the storm inside people.

A soft, warm energy radiated from your hand, spreading through Logan’s body like a gentle wave. You could feel the tension beginning to ebb away, his breathing becoming more rhythmic, more at ease. As the calming energy enveloped him, you whispered reassuring words, barely audible, guiding him into a state of peace.

“Just relax. You’re safe. Just let go… I’ve got you.”

Logan’s body began to relax under your touch, the knots in his muscles slowly unraveling. His eyes fluttered closed, and you continued to channel the soothing energy, lulling him closer to sleep.

Before long, his breathing deepened, and his hand instinctively found yours, holding onto it as if it were his lifeline. He drifted off, the tension that had gripped him earlier now a distant memory. You stayed close, your power still working to shield him from the nightmares that had plagued him for so long.

But then, even in sleep, the shadows tried to creep in. Logan began to mumble, his brow furrowing as he tossed slightly, remnants of old fears threatening to pull him under. You tightened your grip on his hand and let your power surge a bit stronger, a soft, soothing balm that eased the distress in his mind.

The effect was immediate. Logan’s mumbling quieted, the lines on his forehead smoothing out as the calmness you projected enveloped him completely. For the first time in years, Logan found peace in sleep, undisturbed by the horrors of his past.

You watched him, your heart swelling with love as you stroked his hair gently, ensuring that the serenity remained. His grip on your hand relaxed, and a soft sigh escaped his lips as he settled deeper into the comfort of your presence.

As the moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room, you allowed yourself to relax as well. You could feel the steady rise and fall of Logan’s chest, the peaceful rhythm of his breath, and knew that, for now, he was safe. The man who had once been tormented by nightmares was finally resting, his mind at ease, protected by the love and power you shared.

As you lay there beside him, your hand still resting over his heart, you felt a deep sense of fulfillment. This was your place—right here, beside him, offering him the solace he had so often been denied. While it had only been a few months since your lives became intertwined, Logan meant so much more to you than he could realize.

His presence in your life had become a constant, a source of strength and comfort that you had never known before. The depth of your feelings for him had grown rapidly, surprising you with their intensity. There was something about Logan—his strength, his vulnerability, the way he fought against the darkness within him—that drew you to him like nothing else ever had.

Sometimes, in quiet moments like this, you wondered what the future held. Would you continue to help him heal, to be the anchor he needed? Would the two of you find peace together, or would the shadows of his past continue to haunt him? There were so many unknowns, so many questions that lingered in the back of your mind.

But as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your hand, you knew one thing for certain: you weren’t going anywhere. Whatever the future held, you were committed to facing it with him. You had found something rare and precious in Logan, and you weren’t willing to let it slip away.

“I’ll always protect you, Logan. No matter what,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. 

He didn’t stir, but you knew, deep down, that he heard you.

For now, though, this was enough. This moment, with Logan safe and at peace beside you, was more than you could have ever hoped for and as sleep finally began to claim you, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together.

With that comforting thought, you allowed yourself to drift off, your hand still resting protectively over Logan’s heart, ready to shield him from the darkness, ready to walk beside him into whatever tomorrow might bring.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

Two years had passed since that night when Logan first told you he loved you. In that time, your lives had settled into a comfortable rhythm, one that felt as natural as breathing. Logan had moved in not long after, and together, you had built a life that was simple but filled with love and contentment.

The house had become a true home, with little touches that reflected the two of you—photos from your adventures together, Logan’s tools neatly organized in the garage, and your shared collection of books lining the shelves. The days were spent in quiet harmony, whether working side by side in the garden, cooking meals together, or simply enjoying each other’s company on lazy Sunday afternoons.

One evening, as you sat on the porch watching the sun dip below the horizon, Logan reached over and took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. The air was warm, the crickets beginning their evening chorus, and the world felt perfectly still.

“You ever think about the future?” he asked, his voice quiet but laced with curiosity.

You turned to look at him, a soft smile playing on your lips. “All the time,” you admitted. “What about you?”

Logan nodded, his gaze thoughtful as he stared out at the fading light. “Yeah, I do,” he said. “I never used to… not before you. But now… I think about it a lot.”

“What do you see when you think about it?” you asked, your heart swelling at the thought of a shared future with him.

He was silent for a moment as if carefully considering his words. “I think about us,” he began, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “Maybe getting married, starting a family. A life where we can just be… happy.”

His words sent a thrill through you, a mixture of excitement and contentment. “You’d want that?” you asked, your voice soft, almost disbelieving.

Logan turned to you then, his eyes filled with a sincerity that took your breath away. “More than anything,” he said.

Your heart felt like it could burst from the love you felt for him. “I want that too,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly. After a moment, you pulled back, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Though I was kind of hoping you’d ask me to marry you more romantically.”

Logan’s hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “I’m not a romantic guy,” he said but his voice held a laughter to it.

“Liar,” you replied, your fingers gently moving through his hair. 

Logan’s smile widened, his eyes softening as he leaned in to kiss you again, this time with a mix of relief and joy. The simple exchange solidified the bond between you, a promise of a future built on love, trust, and the deep connection you shared.

The idea of marrying Logan, of starting a family together, filled you with a warmth that radiated through your entire being. It was a future you could see so clearly—a future that felt right, that felt like the culmination of everything you had both been through to get to this point.

Over the next few weeks, the two of you talked about your future often, making plans, and dreaming about the life you would build together. The prospect of marriage and starting a family became a beacon of hope and joy, something to look forward to, something that made each day even brighter.

But then, everything changed. You always knew the past would eventually catch up with you, but little did you know that Logan’s had never truly gone away.

Logan was at work at the lumberyard, and you were home, going about your usual routine. The sun was high in the sky, and the air filled with the scent of freshly cut wood, as Logan went about his tasks. It was a day like any other—until he saw him.

William Stryker.

Logan’s blood ran cold the moment he recognized the man standing at the edge of the yard, watching him with that familiar, calculating gaze. Stryker hadn’t changed much in the years since Logan had last seen him—still exuding that air of authority, still holding that unsettling glint in his eyes.

Logan stopped what he was doing, his entire body tensing as Stryker approached, his stride confident and purposeful. “Logan,” Stryker greeted him, his tone deceptively casual. “Been a long time.”

Logan clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides. “What do you want, Stryker?” he asked, his voice low and edged with anger.

Stryker smiled a cold, calculated smile that told Logan everything he needed to know. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” he said, holding up his hands as if in surrender. “Just want to have a little chat. Thought you might be interested in rejoining Team X.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, his entire being rejecting the idea before Stryker had even finished speaking. “Not a chance,” he growled. “I’m done with that life.”

Stryker tilted his head as if considering Logan’s words. “You say that now,” he said slowly, “but things change, Logan. People change. I know you’ve built a life for yourself here, but how long do you think that will last? How long before you get bored… before you start craving the action again?”

Logan’s mind flashed to you—your smile, your laugh, the way you felt in his arms. The life you were building together, the plans you’d made for the future. That was what mattered to him now. Not the past, not the violence and chaos of Team X.

“Not interested,” Logan said firmly, turning his back on Stryker and walking away.

But Stryker wasn’t done. “You think this little dream of yours is going to last?” he called after Logan, his voice cutting through the noise of the yard. “You think you can escape what you are? Who you are?”

Logan stopped in his tracks, his muscles tensing with barely restrained fury. Yet, he didn’t turn around. He wouldn’t give Stryker the satisfaction.

“I’ll be around if you change your mind,” Stryker continued, his voice now calm and almost friendly. “You know where to find me.”

Logan forced himself to keep walking, his mind reeling from the encounter. He couldn’t let Stryker get to him. He couldn’t let him ruin what he had with you.

But even as he tried to push Stryker’s words from his mind, a sliver of doubt began to creep in. Could he escape his past? Could he keep that part of himself buried, hidden away, and focus on the future he wanted with you?

He didn’t know the answer, but as he made his way back home, one thing was certain: he wasn’t going to let Stryker destroy the life he had built. He wouldn’t let him take away the happiness he had found with you.

When he walked through the door that evening, you were there waiting for him, your smile bright and welcoming but as you looked into his eyes, you could see something was wrong.

“Logan?” you asked, concern lacing your voice as you reached out to touch his arm. “What happened?” 

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked over to you, pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you as if he were trying to shield you from something. His heart pounded against your chest, a frantic rhythm that matched your own.

You pulled back slightly, searching his face for answers. “What is it?”

Logan sighed, his expression pained. “Stryker found me.”

The name sent a chill down your spine. You had heard of William Stryker—Logan had told you enough about him for you to know that he was a man to be feared. A man who had once held power over Logan’s life in ways you could barely comprehend.

“What does he want?” you asked, your voice barely holding steady.

“He wants me to rejoin Team X,” Logan said, the words heavy with regret and anger. “He thinks I’ll go back to that life, but I told him no but he doesn’t take no for an answer.”

A wave of fear crashed over you, chilling you to the bone. You had known that Logan’s past was dark, but the reality of it coming back, threatening the life you’d built together, was more than you could bear.

“What are we going to do?” you asked, your voice small and trembling.

Logan took a deep breath, his grip tightening around you as if he could somehow protect you from the storm that was brewing. “We’re going to keep living our lives,” he said, his voice firm despite the turmoil you could see swirling in his eyes. “I’m not letting him take this away from us. I’m not going back to that life.”

“He's not going to stop, you just said so.” you pressed, fear and uncertainty creeping into your words. “He’ll keep coming after you.” 

Logan’s eyes softened slightly as he looked at you, the tension in his expression giving way to something more tender. “I’ll handle it,” he promised. “I’ve fought worse battles, and I’ve come out the other side. I’m not going to let Stryker or anyone else take away what we have.”

His words were meant to reassure you, but the dread in your heart wouldn’t completely fade. You knew Logan was strong, but Stryker was a force that wouldn’t be easily deterred. Still, you nodded, wanting to believe that Logan could protect you, that he could protect the future you had planned together.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice steadying as you looked into his eyes. You wanted to say a million things, but at that moment, nothing else mattered.

Logan shook his head slightly, as if to quiet your worries, before leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered there, warm and reassuring, as if he could somehow transfer some of his strength to you. “I know,” he murmured, sensing the uneasiness that you couldn’t quite hide. “But I need you to promise me something.”

You looked up at him, your heart pounding as you waited for his words.

“If things get dangerous, if Stryker makes a move—promise me you’ll get out of here. Go somewhere safe.”

The thought of leaving him, of running away while he faced whatever Stryker had planned, made your stomach turn. “Logan, I can’t just leave you—”

“Promise me,” he interrupted his voice firm but laced with desperation. “I need to know you’ll be safe. That’s the only way I can fight this without losing my mind.”

You swallowed hard, the reality of the situation sinking in. Logan was willing to do whatever it took to protect you, even if it meant facing his past head-on and as much as it pained you. You knew you had to respect his wishes.

“I promise,” you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. “But only if you promise to come back to me.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. “I promise,” he said, his voice full of conviction. “I’ll come back to you. Always.”

Deep down, a part of you couldn’t shake the fear that the life you had built was about to be torn apart.

The days that followed were tense, filled with an undercurrent of dread that neither of you could ignore. Logan continued to go to work, determined to maintain some sense of normalcy, but you could see the strain in his eyes every time he left the house.

You tried to keep busy, distracting yourself with everyday tasks, but the shadow of Stryker’s threat loomed over everything. You found yourself constantly looking over your shoulder, jumping at every unexpected noise, your heart pounding with the fear that Stryker could appear at any moment.

And then, one day, he did.

You were at home, going through the motions of your daily routine, when a knock at the door sent a chill down your spine. You froze, your heart racing as you stared at the door, knowing in your gut that this wasn’t a friendly visit.

Slowly, you approached the door, your hand trembling as you reached for the knob. You hesitated, your mind racing with thoughts of what could be waiting on the other side.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself and opened the door.

There he stood—William Stryker, his cold eyes studying you with a calculated intensity that made your blood run cold. He was dressed impeccably, his posture calm and composed, but there was an underlying menace in his presence that sent every alarm in your body screaming.

“Hello,” he said, his voice smooth and unnervingly polite. “You must be Logan’s little lady.”

Your throat tightened, and you gripped the edge of the door, resisting the urge to slam it shut in his face. “What do you want?” you managed to ask, your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you.

Stryker’s smile was thin, more of a predator’s smirk than a sign of friendliness. “I’m here to talk to Logan. I believe he’s been avoiding me.”

“He’s not here,” you replied quickly, praying that Logan would stay away until Stryker was gone.

Stryker nodded as if he expected that answer. “I figured as much. He can’t avoid me forever. Sooner or later, he’ll have to face the truth.” 

“What truth?” you asked, dread settling like a heavy stone in your stomach.

“The truth that no matter how far he runs, he’ll never escape who he really is,” Stryker said, his voice dropping to a low, ominous tone. “He’s a soldier, a weapon, an animal. Deep down, he knows it.” 

You shook your head, refusing to let Stryker’s words get to you. “Logan is more than that. He’s not the person you’re trying to make him be.”

Stryker’s eyes narrowed, and momentarily, the facade of politeness slipped, revealing the cold, calculating man underneath. “We’ll see about that,” he said, his voice hard.

He turned to leave, but then hesitated, sighing as he turned back toward you. There was a faint, unsettling look in his eye, something almost resembling concern, but you knew better.

“Oh, I almost forgot to mention,” Stryker paused, his tone deceptively casual. “Some of the guys on the team have… gone missing. I assume they’re dead—because of Victor. He’s big on revenge, I suppose. Anyway, do let Logan know. Victor will probably be here sooner rather than later.” 

Stryker’s words hung in the air like a dark cloud, their weight pressing down on you. You stood there, frozen, as the full meaning of his warning settled in. The mere mention of Victor’s name had always carried an edge, a hint of danger that now felt all too real.

Before you could find your voice, Stryker gave you a cold, almost dismissive nod and turned on his heel, walking away with the same calculated confidence he had arrived with. The sound of his footsteps echoed faintly in the distance, but the chill he brought into your home lingered long after he was gone.

You closed the door slowly, your hands trembling as you locked it as if that simple action could keep the world outside from crashing in. But you knew better. Stryker’s words, his warning about Victor, had already set things in motion—things that couldn’t be undone by a locked door.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the dread coiled in your stomach like a snake ready to strike. Victor was coming and if what Stryker said was true, he was out for blood.

Logan. You had to warn Logan.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

You threw the truck into the park, barely taking the time to turn off the engine before jumping out and running across the lumber yard. Panic fueled your steps as you searched desperately for Logan. He sensed you before he saw you, your scent unmistakable to him. He turned just in time to see you rushing toward him, a terrified look on your face.

“Logan,” you called, your voice trembling, barely above a whisper. “Stryker came to the house.”

Logan’s entire body went still, his breath catching in his throat. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath, his tone hard as all traces of calmness vanished.

“He—” you hesitated, the weight of Stryker’s words still sinking in. “He warned me about Victor. He said some of the team members have gone missing, and he thinks Victor’s behind it. Logan, he said Victor might come here… soon.”

Logan’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with a mix of anger and fear. “Damn it,” he muttered, his mind racing as he processed the information. He turned to you, his expression grim, the weight of his decision clear in his eyes. “You need to leave. Now.”

Your heart dropped at Logan’s words. The thought of leaving him now, in the face of such danger, was unbearable. But the look in his eyes—so fierce and determined—told you that he wasn’t giving you a choice.

“Logan, I can’t just leave you,” you protested, your voice shaking with emotion. “Not now, not when—”

“You have to,” he cut you off, his voice firm but laced with desperation. “If Victor is coming, I can’t let you be here when he arrives. I need to know you’re safe.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as the reality of the situation sank in. “Where will I go?”

Logan’s gaze softened slightly, but the urgency remained. “There’s a motel on the edge of town, near the highway. Go there, stay out of sight. I’ll come for you when it’s safe.”

You shook your head, feeling a mix of fear and helplessness. “What about you?”

Logan stepped closer, placing his hands on your shoulders, his grip firm but gentle. “I’ll handle Victor. I’ve dealt with him before. But I can’t focus on that if I’m worrying about you. Please, just go.”

You could see the fear in his eyes, the fear of losing you. It mirrored your own. But you also saw the resolve, the determination that had always been a part of him. He wasn’t just asking you to leave—he was begging you to trust him.

You swallowed hard, nodding even though every part of you wanted to stay by his side. “Okay,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “But promise me you’ll come back to me, Logan.”

Logan’s expression softened further, and he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. “I promise,” he murmured into your hair, his voice filled with emotion. “I’ll come back to you. I swear it.”

For a moment, you held onto him, memorizing the feel of his arms around you, the warmth of his body. But the clock was ticking, and you both knew it. Reluctantly, you pulled back, looking up at him one last time.

“I love you,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute.

Logan cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had begun to fall. “I love you too,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Now go. Don’t look back.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from breaking down completely. With one last lingering look, you turned and ran back to the truck, your heart heavy with fear and uncertainty.

As you drove away, the lumberyard fading in the rearview mirror, your mind raced with thoughts of Logan, of Victor, of what might happen next. The fear gnawed at you, but you forced yourself to focus on getting to safety, on doing what Logan needed you to do.

The road ahead was dark, the highway stretching out before you like a path to the unknown. Every mile felt like a thousand, every minute an eternity. But you kept going, knowing that this was what Logan wanted—what he needed.

You reached the motel just as the first signs of dawn began to streak the sky. Exhausted and emotionally drained, you checked in, barely registering the details as the clerk handed you the key. The room was small and plain, but it felt like a sanctuary amid chaos.

Once inside, you locked the door, double-checking it as if that would somehow keep the world at bay. Then you collapsed onto the bed, your mind and body finally giving in to the weight of everything that had happened.

You wanted to sleep, to escape the fear that clung to you like a second skin, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Logan—wondering if he was safe, if he was already facing the man who had haunted his past and now threatened your future.

You curled up on the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as if that could somehow replace the comfort of Logan’s embrace. The room was silent, but your mind was anything but. The uncertainty of what would come next loomed large, the fear of losing Logan gnawing at your heart.

And as the hours stretched on, you could only hope that Logan would keep his promise—that he would come back to you, safe and whole, so you could face whatever was ahead together.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

Hours had passed, each one stretching out longer than the last. You stayed at the motel, anxiously waiting for Logan to return, clinging to the promise he had made. But as the hours turned into days, the silence became unbearable. The weight of not knowing gnawed at you, a constant ache that you couldn’t shake.

Logan hadn’t come back.

You tried to convince yourself that he was okay, that he was just being cautious, making sure everything was safe before coming to get you. But as the days dragged on without a word, your worry grew into something more—a cold, suffocating fear that something had gone wrong.

By the time the third day arrived, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to know. You had to find him.

With a resolve born from desperation, you packed up your things and checked out of the motel. The drive back into town felt surreal, the familiar road now filled with an ominous tension. The closer you got, the tighter the knot in your stomach grew.

When you finally pulled into town, the sight of the lumber yard where you last saw Logan filled you with both hope and dread. The place was eerily quiet, the usual hum of activity replaced by an unsettling stillness. You parked the truck and stepped out, your heart pounding as you scanned the area for any sign of Logan.

But there was nothing—no sign of him, no indication that he had ever been there.

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. If Logan wasn’t here, then you needed to check the house. Maybe he had gone back there, maybe he was waiting for you. The thought gave you a glimmer of hope, just enough to push you forward.

You drove through town, your eyes darting to every corner, every shadow, searching for any hint of him. But the town was quiet, almost unnaturally so, as if it too was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

When you finally reached the house, your heart sank. The front door was slightly ajar, and the wood splintered as if it had been forced open. Panic surged through you as you hurried out of the truck, running to the door.

“Logan?” you called out, your voice trembling with fear.

There was no answer.

You pushed the door open, stepping inside cautiously. The house was dark, the only light coming from the early morning sun filtering through the curtains. Everything was in disarray—the furniture overturned, the walls scuffed as if there had been a struggle.

Your breath hitched as you took it all in, your mind racing with the worst possibilities.

“Logan!” you called again, louder this time, hoping against hope that he was somewhere inside, that he was okay.

But the house was silent.

You moved through the rooms quickly, checking every corner, every shadow, but Logan was nowhere to be found. The fear that had been gnawing at you for days now took root, sinking deep into your bones.

As you made your way to the bedroom, your heart nearly stopped. The bed was untouched, the sheets still neatly made—the way you had left them. But what caught your attention was the blood on the floor, a dark stain that hadn’t been there before. Your knees nearly buckled as you stared at it, the implications crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

You forced yourself to stay calm, to think. The blood could be Logan’s, or it could belong to someone else. But either way, it wasn’t a good sign.

You turned and rushed back through the house, your panic growing with every step. As you reached the front door, you paused, your hand trembling on the doorknob. You didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to accept that something had happened to Logan—but the evidence was all around you.

You had to find him. You had to know the truth.

Grabbing your keys, you ran back to the truck and sped off, your mind racing with possibilities. You thought about Stryker, about Victor, about the people from Logan’s past who might be responsible for this. You had no clear plan, no idea where to go or who to turn to—but you couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.

You drove to the lumberyard again, hoping someone there might have seen or heard something. The few workers you found there were no help; they hadn’t seen Logan in days. The town felt like it was closing in on you, every shadow hiding a new fear, every corner holding a new dread.

Next, you tried the local bar—one of the few places where Logan had gone to clear his head when things got tough. But the bartender shook his head when you asked if he had seen Logan.

It was as if Logan had vanished into thin air.

What else could you do? You had no idea where Logan had gone, and even if you did find Victor or Stryker, you knew you’d be no match against them. 

You sat in the truck, gripping the steering wheel as the tears began to fall freely, blurring your vision. The weight of everything crashed down on you all at once—the fear, the uncertainty, the overwhelming sense of helplessness. You had done everything you could think of, but it felt like you were hitting one dead end after another.

You closed your eyes, letting the tears stream down your face, your sobs quiet but deep, shaking your entire body. You didn’t know what else to do, or where else to turn. All you could do was sit there, trapped in your fear and despair, hoping that somehow, some way, Logan would come back to you.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

A year had passed since that terrible day. A year of searching, of moving from one town to the next, chasing down rumors and whispers, but finding nothing. Not a trace of Logan, Stryker, or Victor. It was as if they had all vanished into thin air.

You had driven countless miles, crossing from small towns to sprawling cities, hoping to catch even the smallest lead. But every time, the trail went cold. The hope that had once fueled your search had slowly started to fade, replaced by a growing despair.

Logan was gone, and no one knew where.

Some days, you imagined the worst: that Stryker had found a way to kill Logan despite his Regenerative Healing Factor, or that he was being kept somewhere being used as a weapon, far from the life the two of you had started to build together.

You tried to move on, tried to convince yourself that Logan was gone, that there was nothing left to find. Yet, deep down you couldn’t give up, even when every sign told you that the man you loved was lost forever.

It was that stubborn hope that had led you here, to a small town on the border of Canada and the U.S. It was a place like so many others you had visited—quiet, unassuming, the kind of place people went when they didn’t want to be found. You had been here for a few days, following another dead-end lead, and you were ready to move on again.

However, something drew you into a local bar, a small, dimly lit place that smelled of stale beer and old wood.

You pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside, the murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses filling the air. You weren’t expecting much—maybe just a drink to help you sleep, to drown out the endless questions and fears that haunted you. But as your eyes adjusted to the dim light, something—or rather, someone—caught your attention.

There, sitting alone at the bar, was Logan.

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. It couldn’t be. You had been searching for so long, and here he was, just sitting there as if nothing had happened.

He looked different—more worn, intense, but it was undeniably him. The same rugged features, the same broad shoulders, the same haunted look in his eyes that you had come to know so well. But something was off. He seemed distant, detached as if the world around him barely registered.

Heart pounding, you approached him slowly, your mind racing with a million thoughts and emotions. Relief, disbelief, hope—all of them battled for dominance as you took each step closer to him.

“Logan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you reached his side.

He didn’t react. His eyes were fixed on the glass in front of him, the amber liquid inside swirling as he tilted it slightly. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the weariness etched into his features.

“Logan,” you said again, louder this time, your voice trembling with a mix of desperation and hope.

Finally, he turned to look at you, his gaze slow and deliberate. But the moment his eyes met yours, your heart dropped. There was no recognition there—no spark of familiarity, no hint that he knew who you were.

“Can I help you?” Logan asked, his voice gruff, with no trace of the warmth you had once known so well.

It felt as if the ground had been ripped out from under you. The Logan you had known was gone. The man before you looked like him, sounded like him, but had no memory of the life you had shared.

It took everything in you to fight back the tears. “Sorry, you just… you look like someone I used to know,” you stammered, your voice barely steady.

Logan’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he shook his head slowly. “Sorry, lady. I don’t know you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless with sorrow yet there was no way you were going to leave not after spending so much time looking for him.

You swallowed hard, forcing a small, tight smile as you tried to play off the hurt that threatened to overwhelm you. “Yeah… must be a mistake,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan gave you a brief, puzzled glance before turning back to his drink, seemingly dismissing the encounter. He took another sip, his attention already drifting away, back to whatever thoughts were occupying his mind.

Your heart felt like it was being crushed under the weight of your emotions, but you fought to keep your composure. You couldn’t fall apart now—not here, not in front of him.

Taking a shaky breath, you moved to the stool next to him and sat down, trying to steady yourself. The bartender approached, wiping down the counter with a practiced ease. “What can I get you?” he asked, his tone polite but disinterested.

“A whiskey, neat,” you replied, your voice steadier than you expected. It felt strange, almost surreal, to be sitting here, ordering a drink like nothing was wrong. Like the man sitting beside you wasn’t the love of your life who had somehow forgotten everything you’d shared.

As you waited for your drink, you stole a glance at Logan. He was staring into his glass, his expression distant, almost lost. He looked tired—exhausted, even—but there was something else in his eyes, something you couldn’t quite place. It was as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, yet had no idea why.

The bartender set your drink in front of you, and you nodded in thanks, wrapping your fingers around the glass. For a moment, you just sat there, staring at the amber liquid, trying to make sense of the situation. How could this have happened? What had Stryker done to him but more importantly, how could you possibly bring him back?

You took a sip, the warmth of the whiskey spreading through your chest, grounding you in the moment. You needed to find out if his memories were completely gone. If they weren’t, there was a possibility you could bring them back. It was risky, especially since you had never tried something like that before.

Logan glanced at you briefly, his brow furrowing again. “You’re still here?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

“It’s a public bar,” you quipped back, the words slipping out more sharply than you intended. “If you don’t like it, then leave.”

You hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but the situation was fraying your nerves. Logan didn’t seem fazed, though. He simply rolled his eyes and took a long sip from his glass, his expression unreadable.

For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound between you the clinking of glasses and the low hum of conversation from the other patrons. It was both comforting and heartbreaking to be near him despite the divide that existed between you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Logan spoke again. He glanced at you briefly. “You from around here?”

“No,” you replied, shaking your head slightly. “Just passing through.” The words felt hollow, a cover for the deep truth you couldn’t share with him—at least, not yet.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Logan spoke again, his voice softer, almost hesitant. “You said I looked like someone you used to know. Who was he?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. How could you possibly explain? But you couldn’t ignore the question either, not when it was the first real hint of interest he had shown in you.

“He was… someone important,” you began, choosing your words carefully. “Someone who meant the world to me. We went through a lot together, and I lost him… a while back.”

Logan’s gaze flickered with something—curiosity, maybe—but he didn’t press further. Instead, he simply nodded, as if understanding something he couldn’t quite put into words.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment, his tone sincere. “Losing people… it’s hard.”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion. “It is.”

Another silence fell between you, but this one felt different—less strained, more shared. Even if he didn’t remember you, didn’t know who you were, there was still something between you, a connection that hadn’t been completely severed.

As the evening wore on, you both finished your drinks, the conversation dwindling into companionable silence. It wasn’t the reunion you had hoped for, but it was something—a starting point, maybe. You didn’t know what the future held, didn’t know if you could ever bring Logan’s memories back, but sitting there with him, you knew one thing for certain: you weren’t going to give up on him.

Logan eventually pushed his empty glass away and stood up, reaching for his wallet. “Well, it was nice talking to you…,” he said, trailing off as he realized he didn’t know your name.

You offered it, hoping the familiarity would spark something in him, ignite some glimmer of recognition. Logan just nodded, handing the bartender some cash. “Nice talking to you,” he replied, his tone polite but distant.

He gave you a final, almost apologetic glance before turning and heading toward the door. You watched him go, your heart aching with every step he took away from you.

You drained the last of your whiskey, setting the glass down with a quiet determination. This was just the beginning of a new chapter and no matter how long it took, you were going to fight for him. Deep down, you believed that the man you loved was still in there, somewhere.

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

For the next few days, you camped out at the bar, hoping Logan would return. It felt helpless, a long shot at best, but all logical ideas had vanished from your mind. How else could you find him, connect with him, or get another chance to help him remember?

You sat at the same stool each evening, nursing a drink and watching the door with a mixture of hope and dread. Every time the door creaked open, your heart would leap, only to sink again when it wasn’t him. The bartender had started giving you curious looks, probably wondering why you kept coming back. But you didn’t care. You had to be there, just in case.

On the third night, as you sat swirling the whiskey in your glass, lost in thought, the door opened again. This time, when you looked up, your breath caught in your throat.

Logan had returned.

He walked in with the same weary expression, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He glanced around the room, his eyes passing over you briefly before he moved to the bar. There was no recognition, no sign that anything had changed for him.

But it was enough. He was here, and that meant you had another chance.

You watched as he ordered a drink, his movements methodical, almost robotic. He looked like a man going through the motions, detached from everything around him. It hurt to see him this way, so far from the Logan you had known, but it only strengthened your resolve.

After a moment, you took a deep breath and approached him, sliding into the seat next to him as casually as you could manage. “Back again, I see,” you said, trying to keep your tone light.

Logan glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Yeah,” he replied simply, taking a sip from his glass. There was no recognition in his eyes, just the same detached politeness as before. 

You hesitated, searching for the right words. You couldn’t push too hard, couldn’t overwhelm him, but you had to do something—anything—to get through to him. “So, do you come here often?” you asked, the cliché question sounding awkward even to your ears, but it was a start.

Logan set his drink down, his brows furrowing as he turned to you. “Look, lady. What do you want from me? Who do you work for?”

The abruptness of his question caught you off guard, and your heart skipped a beat. There was a sharp edge to his voice, a defensive suspicion that hadn’t been there before. It was as if, deep down, some part of him sensed the truth—that this wasn’t just a casual conversation, that there was something more beneath the surface.

“I don’t work for anyone,” you replied quickly, trying to keep your voice calm despite the sudden tension. “I’m just…”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, studying you closely, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “You don’t just ‘talk’ to strangers like this. So why me? What’s your angle?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the pressure of his scrutiny, but Logan wasn’t easing up. He leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming, the familiar scent of him invading your senses. “You think you’re clever, darlin’? I’ve sat across the street watching you come in this bar for days—waiting for me.”

His words cut through you, and your heart raced as you realized he had been more aware of you than you’d thought. There was an intensity in his eyes, a mixture of suspicion and something else—something darker, more dangerous.

“I’m not trying to trick you,” you said, your voice steadying even as your pulse quickened. You needed a lie, a good one. “I’m just lost. I thought maybe—” 

“Maybe what?” Logan interrupted, his tone harsh. “You thought you could just waltz in here, play nice, and I’d spill my guts?” 

You shook your head, desperate to break through the wall he was putting up. “No, it’s not like that. I’m not here to hurt you.” You hesitated, feeling the weight of the truth pressing down on you. You couldn’t tell him everything—not yet.

For a long moment, Logan just stared at you, his eyes searching yours for answers he couldn’t find. Then, with a frustrated growl, he pushed back from the bar, shaking his head as if trying to clear it.

“Look, lady, I don’t know who you are or what you think you know, but I’m not the guy you’re looking for,” he said, his voice hardening again. “So fuck off.”

The harshness of his words hit you like a blow, but you nodded, too scared to even speak again. You watched as he turned away, your heart heavy with the realization that the man you once knew was buried even deeper than you had feared.

You decided you weren’t going to leave, not yet. You needed to see if there was any part of the man you knew still inside him. Maybe if you gave him some space, and kept your distance, you could still figure out a way to reach him.

The bar was getting busier, more people trickling in as the night wore on. You wandered over to the pool table, where a couple of guys were already playing. One of them, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a cocky grin, caught your eye. He gestured toward the table with his pool cue, clearly inviting you to join.

You forced a smile and nodded, figuring it was as good a distraction as any. You needed something to take your mind off the encounter with Logan, something to keep you grounded in the here and now. Playing pool with some random guy would help pass the time and give you a chance to stay in the bar without drawing too much attention to yourself.

“Mind if I join?” you asked as you approached, keeping your voice light.

“Not at all,” the guy said with a grin, handing you a cue. “Name’s Jake. What about you?”

You hesitated for a split second, before offering a fake name. “Anna.” 

“Well, Anna, let’s see if you’re any good,” Jake said with a wink.

You tried to relax, focusing on the game as Jake racked up the balls and took his first shot. He was good, but you weren’t bad either, and soon you found yourself getting into the rhythm of the game. Jake kept the conversation going with light banter and flirtatious comments, but you brushed most of it off, keeping your responses neutral.

As the game went on, Jake’s flirting grew bolder. He stood a little too close, his hand lingering on yours when he passed you the cue, his compliments becoming more suggestive. You tried to keep things light, laughing off his advances, but you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that was starting to settle in the pit of your stomach.

Finally, after you sank a particularly tricky shot, Jake leaned in close, his voice low. “You know, you’re pretty good at this,” he said, his breath warm against your ear. “But I bet there’s something else you’re even better at.”

You stiffened, pulling back slightly. “Thanks for the game, Jake,” you said, trying to keep your tone casual as you turned to set down your cue. “But I think I’m done for the night.”

Before you could move away, Jake’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that,” he said, his tone still playful but with an edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “I’m just having a little fun.”

“I said I’m done,” you repeated, trying to pull your arm free but Jake tightened his grip, pulling you closer. You tried to squirm your hands to make direct contact with him, but his grip tightened making your powers useless. 

“Don’t be so uptight,” he said, his voice darkening as he backed you up against the wall. “We were just getting started.”

Fear spiked through you as Jake pressed closer, his body trapping yours against the rough wood. You could feel the tension in his grip, the predatory look in his eyes, and you knew this was about to go very wrong.

“Jake, let me go,” you demanded, trying to keep your voice firm despite the fear clawing at you.

Jake just smirked, leaning in even closer. “I don’t think you really want that,” he whispered, his breath hot against your cheek.

Panic flared in your chest, but before you could react, a hand suddenly clamped down on Jake’s shoulder, yanking him back with surprising force. Jake stumbled backward, catching himself on the edge of the pool table, but froze as three long, metal claws pressed against his throat.

“Get your hands off her,” a low, familiar voice growled.

You looked up, your heart pounding, to see Logan standing there, his expression dark with anger. He didn’t look at you; his eyes were locked on Jake, who had sobered up instantly, clearly not expecting to be interrupted—especially not like this. 

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Jake asked, panic seeping into his voice as Logan’s claws pressed closer to his throat. You watched in horror, realizing that something was different about Logan—his once bone claws had been replaced with metal.

“What’s it matter to you, bub?” Logan snarled, his voice carrying a deadly edge.

Jake’s eyes darted between the claws and Logan’s face, fear widening his eyes. “Alright, man, just… just take it easy,” he stammered, his bravado completely shattered. “I didn’t know she was yours.”

“She’s not,” Logan snapped, the metal claws glinting under the dim bar lights. “But that doesn’t mean you get to put your hands on her.”

Jake swallowed hard, nodding frantically as he tried to lean away from the deadly claws. “Okay, okay, I got it. I won’t touch her, I swear.”

Logan held Jake’s terrified gaze for a moment longer before finally stepping back, retracting his claws with a sharp metallic sound that echoed through the now-silent bar. Jake nearly collapsed with relief, scrambling to get as far away from Logan as possible.

“Get out of here,” Logan growled, his voice still low and menacing.

Jake didn’t need to be told twice. He practically bolted for the door, not daring to look back. The bar patrons, who had been watching the scene unfold in stunned silence, began murmuring among themselves, the tension in the air slowly dissipating.

Yet the tension in the air was still thick between you and Logan as he turned, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of injury. “You trying to start a bar fight?” he asked gruffly, his voice still edged with anger.

You shook your head, your heart pounding as Logan stepped closer to you. He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to make sense of the emotions warring inside him. Finally, he nodded, his expression softening just a fraction. “You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. 

He stepped closer, just inches between the two of you, as he brought his hands up, bracing them on the wall behind you, closing you in between his arms. The heat of his body radiated toward you, his presence overwhelming as his gaze locked onto yours.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you crackled with tension, a mix of fear, longing, and something deeper that neither of you could fully name. Logan’s breath was warm against your skin, his closeness intoxicating, but there was a wariness in his eyes—a warning that this was a line you shouldn’t cross.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” he whispered, his voice rough, tinged with something almost vulnerable.

Despite the warning in his words, he didn’t pull away. He stayed there, inches from you as if torn between the urge to protect you and the desire to completely ruin you.

“You did that shit to get my attention, sweetheart. Go on, admit it.”

You shook your head again, pressing your body flat against the wall, but you couldn’t deny the heat spreading through you. Desire was building, stirred by the way Logan had protected you, by the raw intensity in his eyes.

Logan tsked softly, his lips brushing against your cheek before he whispered in your ear, his voice low and teasing. “So, you’re just wet for no reason?”

“I—I…” You stumbled over your words, your mind racing as you completely forgot that Logan could smell your arousal. It had been so long—one year, two days, and three hours—since he last touched you. This was a terrible, horrible idea, but if you could make direct contact, you might be able to see if his memories were still there.

Logan’s lips curled into a smirk, his breath hot against your ear. “If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask, baby.”

Your heart pounded, a mixture of fear and longing swirling inside you. You knew this was dangerous, knew that giving in could complicate everything—but the thought of being close to him again, of maybe finding a way to reach the man you loved, was almost too much to resist.

“I want you to touch me,” you finally said, your voice a bit weak, but resolute. “To make me feel good.”

Logan smirked, his arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you toward the bathroom. In a blur of motion, he had the door locked and pushed you against it, his lips crashing against yours with a fierce, almost desperate intensity.

Slowly, you snaked your hand up his shirt, hesitant but determined, and placed it on his chest. The contact was electric, your palm pressed against the hard planes of muscle beneath the fabric. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, unyielding, grounding you in the moment. For a second, you closed your eyes, focusing on the connection, willing yourself to find something—anything—that would prove the man you loved was still in there.

As your hand remained on his chest, something shifted. Recent memories flashed before your eyes, unbidden and vivid. You saw Stryker, his cold, calculating gaze fixed on Logan, and then Victor, throwing Logan against a wall with brutal force before stepping on his bone claws, breaking them in half.

You saw Logan submerged in water, long needles being injected into every inch of his body, before he broke out of the tank, screaming. Every recent memory was filled with regret, pain, and fear, flooding your mind until you could barely hold on.

Your chest tightened as the images surged through you, the reality of what Logan had endured washing over you in relentless waves. His pain, his anger, his confusion—it was all there, just beneath the surface, trapped within him. The memories were fragmented and disjointed, but they were enough to confirm what you had feared and hoped for the man you loved was still there, buried beneath the torment.

Logan pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, as if sensing the shift in you. “What’s wrong?” he muttered, his voice rough but tinged with genuine concern.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the intensity of what you had just seen left you speechless. The man standing before you was the same Logan you had always known, yet he was different—burdened by new memories and experiences that had left him deeply scarred.

“It’s nothing,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you struggled to push the memories aside, to stay in the moment with him. “Just… don’t stop.”

Logan’s eyes searched yours as if trying to read the truth behind your words, but then he nodded, pressing his forehead against yours. You gasped as his hand lifted your dress, pushing your panties aside before sliding two fingers into your entrance. “I won’t,” he promised, his voice low, almost guttural.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to steady yourself. It was impossible to focus as his fingers thrusted in and out of you, the pleasure making your body tremble. But you pushed it aside, forcing yourself to slip back inside Logan’s mind, determined to find the man you knew was still there.

More images flickered by—scenes from his childhood, memories you had glimpsed before. Little Logan—or James—was sick in bed, his father comforting him by reading a story. You felt a pang of sadness, but you skipped ahead, not wanting to lose yourself that far in the past, knowing you needed to stay focused.

Then, suddenly, you saw it. A memory of you flickered by. Logan standing there as you danced around the living room, wearing his plaid shirt and grinning at him. You remembered that moment so well—the joy, the love, the simple happiness of being together.

Logan’s lips found yours again, the kiss slower this time, more deliberate, pulling you out of his mind. You sighed into it, letting the memory linger as his kiss deepened. Your desire was building, but you felt something else—a flicker of recognition, a spark of the man you loved. It was faint, buried under layers of pain and confusion, but it was there. Logan might not remember everything, but at this moment, in this connection, there was a part of him that was still yours.

You pulled back slightly, your breath shaky, as the weight of it all pressed down on you. “Logan…”

His voice, low and rough, sent a shiver through you. “You take my fingers so well, darling.”

You closed your eyes, trying to anchor yourself in the moment, trying to hold on to that spark of recognition you’d found. “Logan…,” you whispered again, your voice trembling with both need and the deep, unshakable love you felt for him.

He paused, his fingers still buried inside you, his breath hot against your neck. There was a beat of silence, thick with tension and unspoken words as if he was struggling to hold onto something—some part of himself that was slipping away.

Your eyes flickered open as Logan’s fingers slowly slipped out of you, his expression shifting from raw intensity to something more distant, confused. His brow furrowed, and he took a small step back, almost as if he were trying to retreat within himself.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, concern threading through your voice as you tried to take a step toward him, but the space between you suddenly felt vast.

Logan shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it. “I… I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. His eyes darted away from you as if he couldn’t bear to meet your gaze. “I must be losing it.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the raw vulnerability in his voice cutting deep. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you gently cupped his face, forcing him to look at you. “Logan,” you said softly, willing him to hear the certainty in your voice.

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if seeking some kind of anchor in the storm raging inside him. Yet when he opened them again, they were clouded with doubt, the flicker of recognition you had seen earlier slipping further away.

“Everything’s so messed up in my head,” Logan whispered, the words carrying the weight of his turmoil.

You swallowed hard, the pain in his voice making your heartache. “Then let me help you,” you whispered, your thumb brushing gently across his cheek. “I can help you remember.”

Logan searched your eyes, the conflict within him clear as day. For a moment, you thought he might pull away completely, and retreat into the walls he had built around himself. But then, something shifted in his gaze—a flicker of the man you knew, the man who had always fought for you, no matter what.

His voice hung in the air, rough and hesitant, echoing with uncertainty. “What if I don’t want to remember?”

The question lingered between you, heavy with unspoken fears. For a moment, you were at a loss for words, caught off guard by the raw honesty in his eyes. You had been so focused on helping him remember, on bringing back the man you loved, that it hadn’t occurred to you that maybe he didn’t want to return to who he was before. Perhaps the memories he’d lost were too painful, too overwhelming to reclaim.

“Logan,” you began softly, your heart tightening at the sight of his troubled expression. “I know you’ve been a lot, but I know the man you are deep down, even if you don’t remember him right now.”

His eyes darkened, conflicted as if he was grappling with something he couldn’t quite articulate. “What if… what if remembering makes it worse? I get a glimpse every night of what it feels like—all the pain I’ve been trying to get away from.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, the intensity of his emotions washing over you. “I can’t promise you it won’t hurt, but you don’t have to go through it alone. You once told me that the pain lets you know you’re still alive.”

Logan’s gaze softened, but the uncertainty still lingered in his eyes. He took a deep breath as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face it,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Your heart ached for him, for the weight of the burden he was carrying, but you refused to let him sink back into that darkness. “You are strong enough, Logan,” you said firmly, your grip on his face tightening slightly. “You’ve always been strong enough.”

Logan closed his eyes again as if absorbing your words, letting them settle deep within him. When he opened them, there was a glimmer of something new—hope, perhaps, or at least the beginnings of it. “I’m scared of what I’ve done… of who I’ve become.”

You could see the fear etched in his features, the same fear that had been lurking beneath the surface since the moment you saw him at the diner. “Whatever you’ve done, whatever you’ve become,” you said gently, “it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still the man I love. And nothing is going to change that.”

Logan stared at you, his expression a mixture of disbelief and longing as if he was daring to hope for something he thought he had lost. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t get to decide that,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’m here because I choose to be. Because I love you, Logan. All of you, no matter what.”

For a long moment, Logan didn’t say anything. He just stood there, his forehead still pressed against yours, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something to hold onto. Then, slowly, he nodded, the smallest hint of a smile breaking through the storm in his gaze.

“Fine,” he whispered, the word filled with a fragile hope. “Alright… we’ll try.”

You felt a surge of relief, the tension in your chest easing slightly as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. “We’ll try,” you echoed, your voice soft but filled with determination. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Logan’s arms encircled you, holding you close as if afraid you might disappear if he let go. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a sense of calm settle over you. It wasn’t the end of the struggle, but it was a beginning—a chance to rebuild, to find each other again, and to face whatever memories surfaced together.

The dingy hotel room smelled of stale cigarettes and spilled alcohol as you walked in. It was clear Logan had been living like this for a while, drifting from town to town, drinking away his misery.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, the springs creaking beneath you, as Logan shut the door behind him. The atmosphere felt heavy, laden with the weight of what had happened earlier at the bar. It was strange to be here, in this small, dark room, after everything that had transpired between you.

“So, how does this work?” Logan eventually asked, his voice gruff as he leaned against the wall. Despite agreeing to this, he kept a noticeable distance between you, as if unsure of what might happen next.

You sighed, rubbing your forehead, trying to collect your thoughts. This wasn’t easy for either of you, but it had to be done. “I just need to have direct contact with you,” you explained, your voice calm and steady despite the uncertainty you felt. “I can go through your memories and hopefully bring them forward for you to see.”

Logan nodded, but his eyes were distant. “In the bathroom—” His voice trailed off momentarily, making your heart race. “Did you… look inside my mind?”

“I did, but look, I’m sorry,” you quickly responded, your voice trembling as you took a step closer to him. “I just wanted to know if you were still—” Tears welled up in your eyes as the words caught in your throat. “I needed to know you were still my Logan. I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t desperate.”

Logan shook his head, walking past you over to the bed. “You can’t do that shit to people,” he muttered, his voice low and rough, avoiding your gaze as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you replied, wiping at your tears, trying to hold back the flood of emotions. “I was desperate. I’ve been looking for you for over a year, and—”

“What?” Logan spat, his eyes finally darting to meet yours, the intensity of his gaze startling you.

You went silent, feeling the anger bubbling up inside him, the tension in the room thickening. His posture tensed, his fists clenching as he tried to rein in his emotions.  

You stood there, his gaze heavy on your shoulders, as the silence stretched between you. Logan’s chest heaved with restrained anger, his eyes burning with a mixture of betrayal and hurt that cut through you like a knife.

“You’ve been looking for me for over a year?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous, the words laced with disbelief. “Why didn’t you think to tell me that before? Instead, you just… violated my mind without asking?”

His words stung, each one landing with the force of a physical blow. You wanted to reach out, to soothe the pain you saw in his eyes, but you knew he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet.

“I didn’t want to lie to you,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared and it wasn’t like I could just dump all this information on you hoping it would jog your memory. I thought I lost you forever, so when I finally found you…I didn’t know what else to do. I just needed to know if there was any part of you that remembered us, remembered me.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in his every movement. He looked away from you, his jaw clenched tight. “I get that you were scared. I do. But that doesn’t make it right,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, knowing that you had crossed a line, even if your intentions had been pure.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your throat tightening with the weight of your regret. “I should have asked. I should have trusted that you’d come back to me on your own.”

Logan finally looked back at you, his expression softening just a fraction. There was still anger in his eyes, but there was something else there too—confusion, maybe even a trace of understanding. “I’m not good at this… at letting people in,” he said, his voice gruff but laced with vulnerability. 

“I know,” you said, taking a cautious step closer. “Trust me. I know because you didn’t let me in right away. It took time but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help you through this. If you need space, I’ll give it to you. If you need time, I’ll wait. Just… please don’t shut me out.”

Logan stared at you for a long moment, his emotions warring within him. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle to reconcile his anger with the love he still felt for you. His breath came out in a shaky exhale, and he finally nodded, though his expression remained guarded. 

“Something tells me I don’t want to lose you.” 

“You won’t,” you assured him, your voice firm with conviction. “We’ll get through this, Logan. One step at a time.”

He nodded again, his shoulders sagging slightly as some of the tension left his body. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “But no more going into my head without asking. I need to be able to trust you.”

“You have my word,” you promised, taking another step closer until you were standing right in front of him.

Logan searched your eyes as if looking for any sign of doubt, any hint that you might betray him again. But when he found none, he let out a heavy sigh, his expression softening as he finally allowed himself to relax.

“Alright,” he said quietly, his voice still tinged with uncertainty but also with a glimmer of hope. “Let’s try again… together.”

You smiled, the tension in the room finally easing as you reached out to take his hand. He hesitated for just a moment before lacing his fingers with yours, the contact a small but significant step toward healing the rift between you.

“Are you ready?” you asked gently, searching his eyes for any last-minute hesitation.

Logan gave a curt nod, but the tension in his grip told you all you needed to know—this was as ready as he was going to be.

You took a deep breath, centering yourself before focusing on the connection between you. Slowly, you let your power flow through you, using the contact to delve into Logan’s mind, searching through the tangled web of memories that had been locked away.

“I’ll try to go slow but sometimes the mind is an unpredictable place.” You said in a soothing voice. 

At first, it was chaotic—flashes of scenes, emotions, and images that didn’t quite make sense. But as you guided your power deeper, you began to find the threads that mattered, the memories that had shaped who Logan was before he became lost.

His breath hitched as a particularly painful memory emerged—a moment of betrayal, the image of Stryker’s cold eyes flashing in his mind. You squeezed his hand, grounding him, reminding him that you were there, that he wasn’t alone.

And then, slowly, the fog began to lift. Logan’s grip on your hand tightened as more memories surfaced, clearer this time. Moments of his past life, of battles fought and bonds formed. And then, there were glimpses of you, moments that had once brought him solace and peace.

You felt his body start to relax, the tension easing as the memories became more familiar, more real. His breathing slowed, his eyes focusing as he began to piece together the fragments of who he once was.

When you finally pulled back, the connection severing, Logan let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. There was a new clarity in his gaze, a recognition that hadn’t been there before.

“How do you feel?” you asked, your voice filled with hope. 

Logan stared at you for a moment, his expression a mix of relief and lingering uncertainty. “I remembered... some things but it’s still a mess in my head.”

“That’s okay,” you said, squeezing his hand gently. “It’ll take time. We’ll keep working at it if you want to.” 

For the first time since you’d entered the room, Logan’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Yeah. I saw those moments of me…with you. I can see why you are fighting so hard.” he murmured, the sincerity in his voice unmistakable.

You returned his smile, feeling a sense of hope that hadn’t been there before. It was a start—a fragile, tentative start, but a start nonetheless. 

─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────

Five years had passed since that night in the bar. The road had been long and difficult, but together, you and Logan had faced every challenge, every memory, every fear. Piece by piece, memory by memory, you helped him reclaim his past, using your powers to bring back what had been taken from him while soothing the pain that came with it.

Sometimes, you blinked forgetting so much time had passed. The two of you have built a life far away from the chaos that once defined both of your existence. 

Nestled in the serene wilderness in the middle of nowhere you had found a home—a place where the past was put to rest and the future was whatever you wanted it to be. 

What surprised you most was how Logan had found peace in this quiet life and had blossomed into the role of a loving husband and father. 

The sound of laughter filled the warm, sunlit kitchen as Logan chased your daughter around the table pretending to be a tickle monster. At four years old, your little girl was a whirlwind of energy and curiosity. You chuckled as her little feet pattered across the wooden floor trying to escape Logan’s playful clutches. 

“Gotcha, kiddo!” Logan said, his deep voice filled with joy as he peppered her face with kisses. Your daughter giggled uncontrollably, her tiny hands gripping his shirt as she wriggled in his arms.

“No!” she shrieked through her laughter, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “Not the tickles!”

Logan grinned, the sight of his daughter’s pure delight warming his heart. He finally relented, setting her down on the ground and ruffling her hair. “Alright, alright, you win this time,” he said, his tone mock-serious.

She beamed up at him, her wide grin showing off the tiny gap where one of her baby teeth had recently fallen out. “I always win!” she declared, her voice filled with the confidence only a four-year-old could muster.

You watched from the kitchen counter, your heart swelling with love as you took in the scene. It was moments like these that made everything worth it—the struggles, the pain, the journey you had both endured to get here. You placed a hand on your slightly rounded belly, feeling the gentle flutter of the new life growing inside you. The little one would be arriving in a few months, and the thought filled you with both excitement and a hint of nervousness.

“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger,” you teased, smiling as Logan walked over to you, your daughter still clinging to his leg.

Logan shrugged, giving you a sheepish grin. “What can I say? She’s tough to resist,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips before placing a gentle hand on your belly. “How’s our little one doing today?”

“She’s been kicking up a storm,” you replied, your smile widening as you felt a little nudge against your hand. “I think she’s excited to meet you.” 

Logan’s eyes softened, his gaze full of love and contentment. “I can’t wait to meet her too,” he said, his voice full of wonder.

You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the faint lines that time and life had etched into his face. “I love you,” you said softly.

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if savoring the simple, peaceful life you’d built together. When he opened them again, the love you saw there was so deep, so powerful, that it took your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you and our girls more than anything in this world.”

“We love you too,” you replied, your heart full as you leaned in for another kiss, this one slower, more tender.

Your daughter, never one to be left out, tugged on Logan’s pant leg, demanding attention. “Play with me again!”

Logan chuckled, pulling back slightly from the kiss to glance down at his eager daughter. “Alright, alright. What do you want to play this time, kiddo?”

“Hide and seek!” she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Hide and seek it is,” Logan agreed, lifting her again and spinning her around before setting her down. “But you better hide good, ‘cause I’m the best seeker in all of Canada!”

“Dinner’s almost done, so don’t play too long,” you called as your daughter dashed off to find the perfect hiding spot.

You watched Logan, your heart brimming with love and gratitude. This life, this family—this was everything you had ever wanted. And knowing that Logan had found happiness here, with you and your daughters, made it all the more precious.

With a deep sense of peace, you turned your attention back to preparing dinner, listening to the sound of your husband and daughter’s laughter filling the house. It was a sound you’d never grow tired of, a reminder of just how far you’d come and how much you’d overcome together.

[santanasaintmendes]

“i wish i was who you drunk texted at midnight”

wc!: 5.2k (i’m sorry i’ve got serious problems 😔)

ollie bearman x reader + childhood friends to ?

warnings: angst asf, heartbreak, swearing, let me know if there are any more!

part 2

summary: after moving to Chelmsford you meet ollie, the two of you quickly become friends but unfortunately you fall for Ollie. he moves away for f2 and leaves you, until he’s supposed to race in Jeddah. you fly there only to gain more than what you bargained for

type: angst (cliff hanger ending IM SORRY)

a/n: this is just something I wrote because I was sick in bed the last few days, it’s super long but so hope yall like it! Also i’m sorry if it’s bad lol i am still sick and this is just something i wrote for fun to entertain myself. ALSO no hate to Estelle Ogilvy (is that how i spell her last name) i just used her for the plot of the story please don’t come after me.). The name is inspired by “drunk text” by Henry Moodie, please give it a listen it’s such a good song, enjoy xxx

They say that you should always be friends with the person you like before you start to fall for them. Well, that’s one thing you could check off the list if you looked back on your friendship with Ollie. The truth was, being in love with your best friend sucked. Friends can break your heart too, something people tend to forget. 

6 and 6 

The first time you ever met Ollie was in a library. A week prior to that you had moved to a strange town named Chelmsford. A name that 6-year-old you found difficult to pronounce, to be frank everything in the new town sounded different to what you were used to. The people there spoke with such a different accent to what you were used to, it would take you quite a while to get used to it. As you sat in the back of the taxi with your backpack at your feet, you stared out the fogged up window. The sky was a gloomy grey and the landscape seemed to be an endless plain of sad looking meadows. 

You couldn’t seem to understand why your parents would choose to move to such a sad looking place, it didn’t make any sense. The taxi soon came to a slow stop, the brakes squealing loudly. You glanced out the window hopefully, rubbing the condensation away with your sleeve. Only to be disappointed to see a boring brick building of some sort. It was an odd combination of white wooden window frames and red bricks, like something out of one of those 1600s movies your Father once showed you. You anxiously looked back to your Mother who was watching you as your Father sorted out something with the taxi driver. Upon seeing your unhappy face your Mother chuckled softly.

“I heard that there’s a library just down the street, maybe sometime this week we could visit it.” she offered. You nodded, slightly content. Reading books was something you enjoyed and maybe with a library being close by, not all was lost. 

As it turned out, that boring brick building was your new house. 

Despite having to unpack and sort adult-y things out, your Mother took you to the library just as she had promised. As you skipped down the cobbled road, your Mother held a bright yellow umbrella over your head to shield you from the rain that was pouring down from the cloudy grey sky. 

You pushed upon the heavy front door to the library which also happened to look like a sad white brick square with a pointy red roof, a depressed mushroom if you will. You halted in your steps as giant wood bookcases rose before you, shelves full of books. Never had you ever seen so many books before. In the corner there was a lady sorting things in a trolley with her back turned to you, she still hadn’t noticed you. 

“C’mon, let’s head to the kids section.” your Mother said, taking you by the hand and leading you deeper into the library. Stunned by the amount of books that filled the shelves you couldn’t help but wander off when your Mother told you to stay put while she set up a borrowing card for you. 

Luckily, the children’s section of the library was much more pleasant looking than the eerie hallways of adult books. You scanned the shelves in search of something to read, until you came to a stop. Two round brown eyes among the books blinked from the other side of the shelf, scaring you. 

It was a boy. 

You blinked back, unsure of what to do. So you did what any other 6 year old did when they believed they had found a new friend. 

“Do you want to read with me?” you abruptly asked the boy who was still staring at you with wide eyes. A moment of silence passed before he nodded slowly, the boy rounded the corner. He wasn’t much taller than you with chocolate brown hair and small freckles that spilled over his face like tiny stars. He stuck out his hand, “I’m Oliver. But my friends call me Ollie.” he greeted, a smile taking over his face. His voice sounded odd, like the taxi driver who’d driven you from the airport to your new house. Ollie reminded you of a rabbit with his two front teeth that seemed to take up over half of his face, but you didn’t say anything because your Mother told you that saying things like that wasn’t nice. 

You took his hand cautiously in yours, “I’m Y/N.” you replied slowly. He enthusiastically shook your hand, taking you by surprise as he led you to sit down on the bright coloured bean bags. You watched curiously as he picked a book off the shelf before plopping down next to you again. You peered over as he opened the book to the first page, you frowned, not recognising the book. 

“It’s a book called Where’s Wally (Where’s Waldo if you’re American). You have to find the characters, there’s Wally, Wenda, the wizard guy and Woof - that’s the dog.” Ollie explained to you, pointing to each character on the page. The initial nervousness of meeting another kid, melting away. You began to feel excited as you nodded along while Ollie continued to explain how to play. The two of you spent the next hour doing all sorts of things, talking about favourite colours, favourite animals, reading books, drawing, playing board games together. Both getting along so easily it was as if you guys had known each other forever. That was until you heard your Mother calling your name to go home. 

You stood up, looking down at Ollie who was still seated on a yellow bean bag. He blinked up at you, with those big brown eyes that had scared you only an hour earlier. “I have to go home now.” you told him, a wave of sadness passing between the two of you as you both realised your fun had come to an end. 

“That’s okay, maybe I’ll see you at school.” he suggested hopefully upon seeing your downcast face. You broke into a smile, “Okay, bye Ollie.” you waved slowly as you began to walk away. Ollie waved back with a giant grin on his face as he watched you disappear behind the wooden bookshelves. 

“Hey Mom!” you called out to your Mother as she came into view, she was chatting with the lady who you’d seen at the desk sorting books. She paused and turned to you, “Hey, I was just talking to the librarian, she was saying about how she has a son who hangs out here while she works on the weekend.” 

Putting two and two together you realised that the book lady was Ollie’s Mother. You smiled at the lady, “I was playing with Ollie, we were reading that one book, ‘Where’s  . .  .” You trailed off, racking your brain for the name of the book he’d shown you. 

“Where’s Wally?” the librarian offered, she nodded fondly. “That’s his favourite book.” You grinned up at the lady, looking back in the direction where you’d been playing with Ollie.

“Mom, am I going to the school as Ollie?” you asked, looking up at your Mother. She chuckled softly before nodding, “As a matter of fact, you are.” 

Those golden words were what made you unbelievably excited to begin at your new school. You had barely been able to sleep with the thought of seeing your new friend again, so on that Monday morning you bounded down the stairs to the kitchen. “Good morning!” you greeted both your parents, taking a seat at the dining table, legs swinging off the chair impatiently. 

“Someone’s excited for their first day of school.” your Mother hummed as she set a plate of pancakes in front of you. You nodded, “I get to see my new friend.” you replied as you stuffed your mouth with your breakfast. 

You were basically pulling your Mother through the front gates as you scanned the sea of other children in the same uniform as you. The uniform also happened to be grey, it complimented the terrible weather perfectly. Your eyes fell onto the brown haired-freckled boy from two days earlier, you ran up to him, “Hi Ollie.” you smiled. A giant grin took over the boy’s face, “Y/N!” he exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. From that day on, the two of you were inseparable. Where one of you went, the other followed right behind, Ollie helped you adjust to your new school, showing you around and never leaving you by yourself. As the years passed the two of you only became closer, though you would soon find out that that wasn’t the greatest thing. 

13 and 13

As the two of you grew into teenagers, things began to change and not always for the better. Ollie and you still remained close friends, having dinner at one another’s house on Friday’s, walking home together after school and occasionally spending afternoons playing Mario Kart with Ollie’s siblings. Your families were also extremely close now courtesy to both you and Ollie, his younger siblings becoming like your own. But the worst thing? 

You’d caught feelings for Ollie, it had been so sudden almost like it had crept up on you, taking you by surprise. You didn’t understand. It felt so wrong. 

One day out of the blue it hit you like a pile of bricks, you just couldn’t stop staring at him. Absolutely enchanted by him, his chocolate brown hair, those pretty freckles that you’d memorised on his face. 

Ollie was like a brother to you, he was your best friend, so how come you felt these things for him?

To make matters even worse for little 13 year old you, Ollie liked another girl. A girl who absolutely hated your guts. 

What had you done to her? You didn’t know. 

You and Ollie had been having a sleepover when he told you about her, her name was Estelle Ogilvy. She was gorgeous and untouchable, by far the prettiest girl you’d ever seen. You didn’t hold a candle to her and you knew it too. Ollie had been hopelessly in love with her since the start of high school when he shared science and maths class with her. Time and time again he would ramble on about her to you, completely oblivious to your feelings for him. You could only nod along wishing it was you who he was talking about. That’s just how it was, you were stuck in a bubble of unrequited love. So all you could do now was watch from afar as Ollie ran after a girl who you just knew would never like him as much as he liked her. 

15 and 15

Ollie’s karting career really took off in the last few years and you couldn’t have been prouder, those feelings for him still lingered around but you’d come to terms that he’d never like you in the same way. Because there he was, still stuck on chasing Estelle. You couldn’t blame him, and maybe that’s what you were always just supposed to be, friends. 

Yet you were jealous, something you refused to admit. Jealous of Estelle because oh how you wished to be talked about so fondly by Ollie. To always be on his mind, to be the girl he liked and would never shut up about. You still didn’t understand why you felt this way, in your mind it made absolutely zero sense. Then why did it feel so right when you were by his side, almost like you belonged there next to him? But Ollie being Ollie could just never get a hint whenever you tried to subtly let him know. It sucked because there’s nothing worse than loving someone who’ll never love you the same way. 

18 and 18 

It got worse as the years passed, your feelings for your best friend would just not go away. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you tried to find another boy to fawn over, your gaze would always fall back on Ollie. But he was dating Estelle now, he was in Formula 2 now. It almost seemed like an eternity ago when you first met him in the library just down your street. An eternity ago when you would attend his karting races, cheering the loudest for him in the stands. All of that was now in the past. You barely even saw him now that he had dropped out of school to pursue his career in Formula 2. Now all you could do now was watch from a distance as he looked the happiest you’d seen him in ages.

He was spectacular at what he did, you would watch him race on TV every week no matter what hour the race was or even if you had school the next day. 

Yet inside of you there was a giant hole, a hole that Ollie had left behind when he abandoned you. Abandoned was a bit of a stretch but it was the only word you could use to sum up what you had felt when he left. Ollie had to move to Italy for his career, news that he hadn’t even told you in person, you had to hear it from his Mother. He’d taken your hands in his at the airport as he waited to board his plane and promised you he’d stay in touch, that he’d call every week but here you were with the last time you’d spoken to him being over a month ago. 

You refused to be the first one to reach out to him, you felt like he owed you that much effort at least. So you waited  . . . and waited only for the world to keep spinning while you were stuck in the past. That was until you finally realised that you had never meant as much to Ollie as he had to you. 

19 and 19 - present day 

“Y/N! WAKE UP OR YOU’LL BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!” your Mother’s voice echoed up to your bedroom, rattling the glass in the window frames. You groaned as you groggily sat up, pulling open the curtains only to be greeted with dark overcast weather, rain pouring down outside. You rubbed your eyes, yawning as you dragged yourself out of bed. It was your second year of university studying mechanical engineering at the biggest university in Chelmsford. It proved to be difficult with its endless nights of staying up doing work but you knew it would be worth it in the end. 

Your university never failed to confuse you and make you late for class with all of its giant identical hallways. You ran down the corridors, heels clacking on the marble floor until you came to a stop at the door to where your lecture was for that day. Slipping through the door you weaved through the seats of the auditorium to find an empty seat. Luckily for you, your friend Bianca saved a seat for you. 

“Thanks.” you whispered only to be shot dirty glares by the students around you. You winced as you looked ahead at the teacher in an attempt to catch on what he was droning on about. Bianca gently nudged you, passing her phone to you. You frowned, eyebrows knitted as you looked down at the screen. A notice on Ferrari's official instagram with Ollie’s face plastered above the words “Oliver Bearman to race in Jeddah this weekend for Carlos Sainz.” 

You narrowed your eyes and huffed, passing the phone back to Bianca who smiled nervously. “What was the point of that?” you whispered, leaning closer to her. Bianca sighed, “You’re not fooling anyone, I know you still have unresolved feelings for him.” she whispered back only to get a loud shushing sound from a nearby student. 

Bianca shot them a glare before turning back to you, “You have to go, I don’t care what you say. You are going. This is his Formula 1 debut, whether you’re still friends with him or not you’ve got to be there for him.” she whispered-shouted, looking at you sternly. You sighed, leaning back into your chair, shaking your head. 

“It’s not the same anymore. He’s clearly forgotten about me, the last time we spoke was last year and he’s been back home 4 times in the last 12 months.” 

Silence hung in the air, only the voice of the teacher rambling on and on about something you still hadn’t caught on about. 

“That Estelle girl, she’s clearly using him. You were his best friend, surely that means something to you both.” Bianca tried again but it wasn’t any use. There was no purpose in bringing up something that you both had clearly tried so hard  to forget about. 

So then why were you here booking a flight to Jeddah to watch your old best friend debut in Formula 1? 

It was something you couldn’t answer and didn’t want to. 

The thing that you hated the most is that you didn’t even think twice before booking those tickets. 

How could you care so much about a person who had so blatantly forgotten about you?

Deep down you knew the answer, it was because to you Ollie was like your home. He was the first person to make you feel like you actually belonged somewhere, he never abandoned you to eat lunch alone at school, he never cancelled plans once you made them, he was a good person, a good friend. 

Or at least he was. 

Were you insane? The answer was yes, yes you were insane. Being here was so crazy; it nearly made you want to turn around and jump on the next flight back home. You were standing in line to go through the gates when you heard someone call your name. You secretly hoped it was Ollie but much to your disappointment it was . . . Arthur?

Ollie had introduced you to Arthur back when they had raced in Formula 3 together. You hadn’t seen him in forever. 

“Arthur?” you questioned as he pulled you into a hug, you hugged him back before pulling away, still unable to believe it was him. 

“I was about to ask what you’re doing here but that would be dumb.” you confessed, only noticing now the massive crowd that was surrounding the two of you. Arthur chuckled before nodding in the direction of the gate, “C’mon, I can get you in, you’ll be my guest.” 

“Oh, you don’t have to-” you began but Arthur was already pushing you through the gates. Walking back onto a race track was like taking a breath of fresh air after being in a car for a long time. You used to accompany Ollie to all of his karting races each weekend in Chelmsford, so being in the stands had become like a second home to you. 

“Are you here for Ollie?” Arthur asked as you walked in the direction of the motorhomes. You caught yourself before you could answer too irrationally, “No, I’m just here to watch the race.” you shrugged, realising how dumb that sounded as soon as it left your mouth. No good person would fly all the way to Saudi Arabia to watch a race if there was a Grand Prix in their own country.  If you wanted to “just watch a race” you could’ve watched it on TV or gone to the Silverstone GP. Arthur only hummed, you knew he had already caught on, it was so obvious it made you want to dig a hole and jump in. 

“Anyways,” you quickly said, eager to move onto a different topic.

“Anyways.” Arthur agreed, looking at you, eyebrows raised. “You can’t fool me, I’ve known it since the moment I met you.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “What am I going to say to him?” you asked, looking to Arthur for help. He shrugged, “No clue but you might want to think of something quickly because he’s walking over right now.”

“Y/N?” 

You blinked as you came face to face with the person you wanted to see so badly for the last year and now that you were here facing him it felt like all the air in you had gotten sucked right out. He looked  the same since the last time you saw him. In the last year you wanted to hate Ollie so much but it was impossible because you still loved him and that was the big terrible truth that you refused to admit. 

“Hi. Ollie.” you said, to not let the jumble of words that you’ve kept in since the last time you saw him spill out. Arthur sent you a quick salute, “Gotta go, I’ll see you afterwards, Y/N.” and with that he left you with Ollie in silence. 

“What are you doing here?” Ollie finally asked, he was acting so . . .  so normal. As if nothing had changed between the two of you.

“I’m here because I’m your number 1 fan, remember?” you scoffed, looking up at him. A reminder of the time when you were both 10, Ollie gifted you a t-shirt at Christman with the words: “Ollie’s No.1 fan.” plastered on it for you to wear to his karting races. It was sure to be buried deep in your wardrobe somewhere. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, “Yeah you are.” guilt written all over his face. 

“Why’d you leave me then? Tell me the truth, did I do something wrong? Was I too normal for you?” you asked, questions pouring out of you. 

“We were best friends, how could you just leave me like that? Do I mean nothing to you? Because you were everything to me, my best friend, the first person who made me feel like I actually mattered to someone, so tell me, why did you abandon me?” 

Silence hung in the air as you stared up at Ollie. You wanted answers, perhaps it would be the only thing that would let you move on from him. He looked away, unable to meet your gaze. This was so. . . so unfair. You wanted to yell, scream at him even so he could feel even a fraction of the pain you’d felt in the past year. 

“So that’s it? You don’t even have an explanation?” you asked him, your voice shaking with anger it made your throat ache as you blinked back tears. 

“I waited and waited for you to call me, to even send a message but that was a mistake. You’ll never love me in the same way that I love you.” 

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks, Ollie finally meeting your eyes as the three simple words left your lips. 

You’ll never love me in the same way that I love you.

The world stopped like everything had been put on pause as you realised your mistake. You felt like you’d gotten hit on the head with a cricket bat. 

“I have to go.” is all that left your mouth as you turned around. The ground was moving like a spinning wheel - a blurry mess of colours. It made you sick to your stomach as you walked away, your cheeks flushed hot and your forehead sticky with sweat. Ollie didn’t even call out for you, nor run after you for an explanation because it was so blatantly clear what you’d just confessed to him. 

You wished you could hate him, hate the fact that he’d left you, forgotten you like an old stuffed toy, you hated that he didn’t love you. 

You sat on the curb, clutching your knees outside of the entrance to the racetrack wallowing in self-pity. Wiping away tears that just kept falling down your face much to your distaste. The sun was beginning to disappear behind the buildings, the sky now a deep shade of orange. You stared at your feet, it was dumb, you should’ve known that coming here to Jeddah was a mistake. Ollie had moved on, something that you hadn’t done in the last year. You felt so stupid, why did you believe you could repair your friendship?

Why did you-

“Excuse me?” a voice interrupted your train of thought, you quickly wiped your tears and looked up to see Arthur standing beside you, a pitiful smile on his face. You looked away, “What do you want?” you grumbled, folding your arms across your chest bitterly. Arthur sat down beside you, watching you closely as you stared at the trees in the distance. He sighed, “The race is about to start and Ollie’s not coming out of his driver room. Estelle said she’d be here but she’s not and he’s locked himself in.” 

The words hung heavy in the air, “And what does that have to do with me?” you asked flatly. You knew exactly what he meant. But you weren’t going to do that, you were done with Ollie and everything to do with him. 

“You know exactly what it has to do with you. Did you really think Ollie forgot about you that easily? You’re dumber than I thought.” he quipped unhelpfully. 

“Thanks,” you muttered miserably, Arthur winced. 

“What I meant is that you can’t give up this easily, you and I both know how stupid Ollie can be sometimes.” 

You chuckled softly, letting a tiny smile creep onto your face. Arthur wasn’t wrong. When you and Ollie were both 8 you invited him over for Easter to make coloured eggs. It resulted in 20 cracked eggs on the kitchen tiles when Ollie accidentally knocked them off the bench. The two of you had stared at the mess on the ground before bursting out laughing until you were both in tears. It was safe to say that you both spent the next 2 hours scrubbing the tiles and the yolk that had stained the grout in between them. 

“Yeah.” you said softly, looking at the sun that had been swallowed by the top of the palm trees, the stars in the sky beginning to appear as you sat in the light underneath a lamp post. 

“So?”

“Okay, I’ll get him out of the room but after that I’m out of here. I want to go home.” 

Arthur gave you a quick thumbs up as you raised your hand to knock gently on the door to the driver’s room. There wasn’t a reply, only dead silence and that’s when you heard it, crying from inside the room. 6-year-old you would’ve kicked down the door and done anything to get to your best friend. But here you stood outside the room, sending hopeless glances at Arthur who was standing behind you. 

“Ollie?” you called out hesitantly, the crying halted and there was another long moment of silence. You pressed your ear up against the door, waiting for an answer. 

“Yeah?” his shaky voice replied, you breathed a sigh of relief. You turned around, beckoning Arthur to leave you both, he only nodded, mouthing ‘OK’ as he slipped down the hallway. Turning back to the driver’s room you took a deep breath in, you didn’t want to go in. You didn’t think you could face him after what happened earlier. 

“You came,” he said as your hand rested on the handle of the door but there was resistance, it was still locked. 

“Of course, are you okay?” you asked, immediately regretting asking as soon as it left your mouth. You cursed yourself silently as you awaited Ollie’s answer. Soft sniffles came from the other side of the door, “Yeah.” he finally replied quietly but loud enough for you to hear from the other side of the door.

What were you supposed to say to get him out of the driver’s room?

“Everyone’s waiting for you, you can’t stay in there forever.” you gently reminded him, sighing as you sat down, back leaning up against the door. There was another long moment of silence as you rested your head on the door, stretching your legs out for comfort. 

“I don’t think I can do it.” he said, taking you by surprise. The Ollie you’d known wasn’t afraid of anything, he was confident in almost everything he did, almost it seemed. 

“Oliver, you’re being crazy. You are by far the most talented driver I’ve ever seen.” you told him, staring at the roof of the building as you heard a sigh from the other side of the door. “You’re just saying that because you’re my girlfriend, Estelle.” 

You froze as if you’d just been stabbed by icicles, Ollie thought you were Estelle. 

Of course. He’d been expecting her, Arthur had told you before. You scoffed to yourself quietly, you would’ve stood up and left if it wasn’t the fact that you were here to get Ollie out of the driver’s room he had oh so nicely locked himself in. You let out a soft sigh as you racked your brain for what you should say to him. 

“I’m not. It’s the truth, Ollie.” you told him with a heavy heart, feeling as if you were just setting yourself up to get your heart broken all over again. You took a deep breath in, “You are such an amazing driver it’s literally insane, not only that but you’re by far the kindest, most selfless person I know. It’s crazy that you think you can’t do this, because I know that you can. Ferrari chose you to drive for them for a reason, they know what you’re capable of, everyone else does too. I see you and you’re extraordinary, you have this spark inside you that’s amazing. And . . . maybe that’s the reason why I love you. I always have, and when I had the chance I should’ve told you but I didn’t because your friendship has always meant more to me than my own feelings.” you let out a shaky breath. 

“You’re a good person, Ollie. You’ve earned a chance to show the world just how great and insanely talented you are, are you really going to throw it away?” 

You blinked back tears, who knew you could get so emotional after giving such a life changing speech?

You rubbed your eyes and cleared your throat, letting out a deep sigh. It was time to leave now, Ollie would have realised by now that it was you who was speaking to him and not Estelle. As you began to get up, leaning against the door for support you heard a click!

Oh shit, was the only thought that went through your mind as you lost your footing and fell backwards, the door frame offering you no help at all as you grasped at it helplessly. You stared up at Ollie as you laid at his feet, a million thoughts racing through your mind. He was in his fireproofs with his race suit tied around his waist as he looked down at you, eyebrows knitted. There were tear stains on his flushed cheeks as he stared at you with those wide brown eyes you’d seen among the books all those years ago. 

“Y/N?” 

a/n: sorry if it was so quick and rushed i just wanted to post something! Thank you if you got the end, ik it was super long for no reason, so thank you! Please let me know what you think, likes and reblogs are always appreciated, thank you and have an amazing day xx

[thetransguard]

okay i knew it was coming but its kind of killing me how obtuse people are being towards toshiro (im not fucking calling him shuro and honestly yall should stop with that too). should he have told laios how he really felt about him, sure, yeah, but im going to go off on a limb here and suggest maybe! maybe! he's been raised in an environment where it's actually like legitimately unheard of and taboo to be very open and straight forward about his feelings. the entire party has been calling him by a name that literally isnt even his own because he is so used to quashing down his own reactions to others. like i think other poc diaspora dunmeshi fans might agree with me here but he just reads like someone whos not bothered enough to correct every microaggression thrown his way. because that shit is exhausting. and after like five hours of laios bugging him about stories of his homeland why would he have a good opinion of him. genuinely. im not saying laios is entirely at fault but neither is toshiro. i love laios too but it is Very Weird that toshiro gets the brunt of their friendship's falling out (ill circle back to this)

also to preface this i am a farcille shipper so im. not pushing for falin/toshiro. but people acting like his affection for falin is somehow not relevant or he has no devotion to falin at all is CRAZY. immediately after being teleported out he threw himself back into that dungeon and didnt eat or sleep properly to rescue her. we literally watch him collapse from it. after multiple episodes emphasizing the importance of nutrition and caring for yourself and your take away from a man willing to toss that away is that he just. doesn't care for falin? why is he in the dungeon then? answer. quickly. granted he's not as onboard with the whole black magic thing but his concerns are literally valid and before we see falin chimera he seems to have been talked down from reporting them all for it. its the proof of his concerns of the use of black magic that he decides to go up and report them at all. his bond with falin isn't nearly as strong as marcille's bond but its also not nothing. ignoring that or minimising his own sacrifices is such a nasty bad faith disservice to his character.

speaking of bonds. toshiro doesn't hate laios. guys. his last act this episode was to give laios and the rest of the party (yes, even black magic user marcille) a way out of the hole that they'd already dug for themselves. fleeing to the east and leaving falin to the elves isnt the best case scenario but it is one that lets the majority of the party survive whatever's coming. its the realistic play. is this the act of a man who hates his former colleagues? is he wishing harm and further misfortune on them? his actions speak for themselves. you guys are being way too hard on toshiro and its really fucking telling. this goes for white viewers especially

[getyourdirtyhandsoffme]

D-RIDING?! PART TWO (18+)

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

GENDER: FTM READER (M!READER FRIENDLY)

SUMMARY: You, a famous YouTuber, got noticed by idol crush, Bang Chan, from an "accidental" drunk tweet you made when he was in BuzzFeed. Now you are waiting in your house to make that tweet into a reality.

GENRE(S): Smut (mercy on me yall), Explicit, Fluff, comedy (cringe because I need one mentally)

SEPARATE WARNING(S):

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ READER:

Role(s): Submissive Bottom. You are a versatile bottom because I said so.

Genitals: I made it separate since there are people out there who do have a bottom surgery.

T-dick section: So one will have you having a t-dick (mentions of squirting).

Dick Section: While a separate one in the same post will have you having a Penis.

(I don't want y'all feeling uncomfortable/Gender Dysphoria as a TransMan myself)

Names: Pretty boy, Baby boy, Handsome, Cutie, Sweetheart

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ CHAN:

Role(s): Dominate Top. Made him Versatile too.

Genitals: He has a big dick because of the big nose theory.

Names: Chan, Chris, love, pretty boy

OTHER WARNING(S): You both are virgins, Oral (Reader receiving), Mentions of Vagina/T-Dick(Mentions of squirting) for the reader along with a separate one of you having a Dick. Nipple play (Reader receiving), Reader getting Manhandled kinda, Choking? Not breathplay. Cum licking, Mentions of your chest scars (or just chest) Fingering. Anal sex. Beggingish?. Praising. Different words for Dick and Vagina. Crying (reader)

OTHER(S): y'all, please have mercy on me! I never wrote smut before so this might make me leap over a bridge!

Please like, reblog and/or comment for my dignity.

Tags: @braveangel777 @1s3v3n1 @kodasstar @webwanderer @coralblook @ironhyacinth @bitchyzombienacho

IM BEING SO FR, I CANT WRITE SMUT- I CANT WRITE SMUT! HAVE MERCY ON ME AHHHH!

(I DIDNT PROOF READ OR HAD GRAMMAR CHECK, YALL GOT IT!)

It was refreshing.

You lay yourself down on your bed wearing your pajamas, silk pajamas, covering your naked body. The silk only stops at your thighs.

You waited for Chan to message you as you scroll through your fans' comments; requesting collabs, games, or other content to record.

You keep on scrolling, almost forgetting about the whole sexual situation going on until you hear a knock from your front door.

You walk out from your bedroom, holding your phone out and texting him if he was the one behind the door of your front entrance.

CB97: Why don't you find out, Cutie?

You sighed, as you slowly unlocked the door then slowly opened the door to check it was actually him.

A white hand pushes the door fully, revealing the man himself, smirking at you. He was wearing a black shirt, compressing his muscles with baggy sweatpants.

He was checking you out, blushing a bit from the silk pajamas going nice with your figure and skin color.

"Don't you look lovely, pretty boy?" Chris comments, his eyes still lingering in your body.

You felt yourself getting flustered, shy even just from him staring at you. He steps closer to you while closing the door behind him.

"Can I touch you?"

You nodded and just by that Chris leans into you, kissing your soft lips while his hands roam around your waist, while one hand grips your butt.

You moaned softly around his mouth.

Your arms around his neck as your hands slowly reach to his shirt, gripping it as you push your face away from Chris.

He looks at you confused, giving you almost puppy eyes.

You thought it was cute. Yousmirked as you took him to your room.

He looks around, admiring your room until you smash your face into his lips again, catching him off guard but quickly kissed you back.

You both feel impatient, as you take off Chan's black shirt as he pushes you down on the bed, prying off the silk pajamas.

"You are already naked underneath, you were really expecting me, huh?" His accent, his voice raspy, making you want him more and more.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎WARNING: T-DICK SECTION

For the people with no bottom surgery/testosterone:

He had you trapped, both of his hands holding your waist as he leans into your chest, giving a few kisses on your chest scar (or chest)

"So handsome..." He mutters as he continues on kissing you as you feel his hands reaching up to your chest, caressing your nipples as the other hand reaches between your thighs.

You moaned, feeling his fingers playing around your folds.

"You are so wet for me, baby boy. Do I really get you this wet? I'm so flattered..." He whispers into your ear.

All you can do is moan, nodding your head as you feel your thighs parting from each other.

You look down to see Chan giving a few kisses on your left thigh then giving a few more kisses, almost getting closer to your wet folds.

"I want to taste you so bad, would you let me taste you, sweetheart?" He looks up at you, waiting for your response.

"Please, Chris! I need you.."

He smiles, leaning his head towards your t-dick, immediately licking and sucking your folds. Even getting closer to your small dick, giving a few licks.

You moaned, as you moved your bottom area getting more pleasure, almost riding his face. You even felt his nose touching your dick, sending more pleasure into your body.

Chan lets you as he continues on licking and sucking, moaning a bit, sending vibrations through your body.

You continue on moving your body, feeling yourself getting close. Your body is twitching, as Chris raises his fingers closer to your t-dick, rubbing quickly as you moan even louder.

"Chris—a~ah, I'm cumming! F-fuck!"

He sucks harder and even rubs even faster until you finally cum, squirting.

Chan licks one more time as he moves his face away slowly as he stands up, admiring your sweaty figure.

You sit up as your legs twitch a bit.

"Damn, I squirted. This kinda embarrassing..."

Chan just laughed as he leans closer to your face giving a few kisses to your forehead and cheek.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎WARNING: DICK SECTION

For the people with bottom surgery/has a dick:

He had you trapped, both of his hands holding your waist as he leans into your chest, giving a few kisses on your chest scar. (Or chest)

"So handsome..." He mutters as he continues on kissing you as you feel his hands reaching up to your chest, caressing your nipples as the other hand reaches between your thighs.

You moaned, feeling his fingers playing the tip of your dick.

"You are so hard for me, baby boy. Do I really get you this hard? I'm so flattered..." He whispers into your ear.

All you can do is moan, nodding your head as you feel your thighs parting from each other.

You look down to see Chan giving a few kisses on your left thigh then giving a few more kisses, almost getting closer to your hard cock.

"I want to taste you so bad, would you let me taste you, sweetheart?" He looks up at you, waiting for your response.

"Please, Chris! I need you.."

He smiles, leaning his head towards your dick, immediately licking and sucking the tip. Pushing his head down, giving you a good suck.

You moaned, as you moved your bottom area getting more pleasure, almost riding his face. Chan lets you as he continues on licking and sucking, moaning a bit, sending vibrations through your body.

You continue on moving your body, feeling yourself getting close. Your body is twitching, as Chris raises his hands closer to your balls, fumbling around as you moan even louder.

"Chris—a~ah, I'm cumming! F-fuck!"

He sucked harder and faster until you finally cum, some hitting his face.

Chan licks one more time as he moves his face away slowly as he stands up, admiring your sweaty figure.

You sit up as your legs twitch a bit.

"Damn, that felt weird...."

Chan just laughed as he leans closer to your face giving a few kisses to your forehead and cheek.

"But, you enjoyed it didn't you?" He questions, as he continues on kissing your face.

"I did, but let's get into the main event, shall we?" Chris chuckles as you stand back up, holding between his baggy pants, pushing it down and throwing it to the side.

He looks down at you while chuckling again, smirking from how impatient you were.

His dick flings up, standing a bit straight and even dripping with pre-cum.

You licked your lips, your mouth just watering from the sight of his dick, however, you felt yourself getting kinda scared since it looks big.

"Chan, how big is your dick? I mean I knew it was big because of the nose theory..."

"Huh, what nose theory?"

"Focus on the question and not the nose theory—I'll tell you that later."

You look up at him as he thinks, then shrug.

"I don't know, I never measured my dick before..."

"Fuck you mean you never measured your dick? You know what, wait right here. You grab the lube and the condom from the cabinet next to my bed."

Chan did exactly what you said while still looking perplexed that his dick size really bothered you that much.

You came back, holding a measuring tape.

You sat back down on the bed as you told Chris to come clover to your face. You felt his dick touching your cheek.

You licked your lips as you raised the measuring tape. Chan just chuckled on how focused you were.

"Is it really that serious...?"

You just nodded until you reached the top of the tip.

"Damn, 8 inches? I guess OT8 is for life, huh?"

Chan groans, as he smacks on top of your head softly. "Don't ever say that again..." He jokingly said, shaking his head, smiling.

"Anyways, let's continue."

"Gladly." He says as he pushes you down, putting you into a mating press.

You hear a bottle cap opened making you shivered in anticipation.

He squirts a generous amount into his fingers.

You felt his fingers circling around your rim as his other hand gripped your neck, holding you down.

You whimpered, shaking your butt for him to just insert in already.

"P-please Chris~ Fuck, hurry up!" You whined.

"Sorry baby boy, let me give you what you want~" He teases you as you feel one of his fingers inserting in.

You hiss in pain, not used to the feeling at all. Chan shushes you as he tries to calm you down, giving you a few kisses in your back.

"It will feel good, I promise..."

You calm yourself down, moving your waist side to side.

He gently plays with your rim as he slowly inserts another one. You hissed a bit but you could slowly feel the pleasure going through your body.

He continues on fucking you until he hits a certain area making you moaned along with your toes curling.

"Found it..." He whispers, hitting your prostate while inserting the third finger in.

You moaned, sending Chris's dick even harder; throbbing and aching in pain. He was getting hot and bothered—impatient—but he didn't want you to feel uncomfortable so he continued on. He adds a fourth one just in case after finding out his dick was 8 inches.

"Chan, love, just put it in already!" You whined.

You didn't need to tell him twice.

He quickly rips the plastic out with his teeth then taking the condom out and putting it on his dick.

He quickly takes his fingers off as he lines his dick up your hole, tapping it a few times until he slowly inserts the tip in.

You hissed again. Even though his fingers were thick, nothing could beat his thick cock (corny).

He apologized softly, while he hissed too from the clench.

"Fuck, so tight. I'm going to push in more, okay sweetheart?"

All you can do was whine while he slowly pushes in more. You both hissed again as you felt tears coming out of your eyes.

Chris hands both made it to your waist, going in circles.

He inserts more until finally he fills you whole.

He waits as he groans, your hole tightening around him as he tries not to cum just from it. He bites his lip as he caresses you again.

You felt warmth in your chest, loving the care from Chris and the fact he even was waiting for you to get used to his size.

You smiled softly as you shook your butt, making him grip your waist.

"You can move, love~"

Just like that, he pulls his dick out and slams back into you making you moan. He was already going rough, almost like a crazy animal.

He keeps on going, angeling himself a bit as he slams again and again, hitting your prostate.

You moaned even louder, gripping the sheets.

"F-FUCK~♡ CHRIS A~AH!" You cried out in pleasure as he continued on abusing your prostate. You felt overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure he was giving you.

You both moaned out of pleasure feeling yourself getting closer. He was getting closer as well, you feel his dick twitch inside of you.

He leans in, his chest on top of your back, whispering sweet words to your ears making you shiver.

"P-pretty boy~ I'm about to cum...Are you about to cum as well? Hmm?" He whispers.

You repeated the word 'Yes' as he continued slamming until finally you both released. Chan's cum filling the condom whole.

He steps out, taking the condom out and tying it then throwing it away into the garbage bin.

You turn your body around, laying flat, your back facing the bedsheets as you calm yourself down.

Chan walks up to you then lies down next to you. "I never did this before so I wanna know (Knaur) if I did good?"

You smiled, feeling horny all of sudden from his sweet voice. His duality from being all dominant to almost submissive—You kinda wanna ride him until he breaks.

"it's my first time as well, Chan and you did so well for me, love..." You said to him, kissing him all over his face.

He chuckles, smiling widely from your praises until he yawns, clearly drained.

"I'm tired, my body is tired. Maybe we should've had sexs not around the performance. Haha!" He laughs, not noticing your eyes staring into him like you were going to devour him.

"Yeah, but, I'm quite disappointed..." You sadly said—well pretending to be sad—using your fingers to trace around his neck.

"h-huh? Why? You said I did good?" He sits up, looking at you like a sad puppy. (There is no pet play)

"of course! You did so well, but my tweet. You remember it don't you?" You said calmly as you continued on looking at him.

He thinks for a second until his face turns red.

"O-oh."

Oh indeed.

"B-but, aren't you tired, I'm quite tired myself..." He rambles until you shut him up by placing your hands around his mouth.

"But you promise you want to make that tweet into reality, right? I want to ride your dick until you cry. Calling my name. Plus, I'm doing all the work. You can just lay down and look pretty, my pretty boy~"

His face turns even more red, all of sudden turning shy and weak. His cock going hard again, throbbing in anticipation.

"Even your dick seems to agree with me~"

You can't wait to actually make that tweet into reality.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Ending (myself) in part three.

YALL IMMA KMS, I CANT WRITE SMUT WTF AHHHH

[p-h-a-n-t-a]

I tend to fixate on evan as a character at times because his whole shtick is that hes mysterious and has issues tm, but also because i have also been the haunted (literally spoke to ghosts as a child) ass white kid (white) suffering from food insecurity (yall ever have a mustard sandwich, its bread heels with mustard on them. Thats how i learned to like mustard.) So i relate to him quite a bit.

But, i cant help but be deeply curious about the other misfits and their lives, struggles, and their mysteries.

I frequently work with kids like Jammer (ive been christened with a nickname by middleschoolers. Its Shawty DooBop. Im glad its that and not "that mean ass librarian") and I wonder what his life is like on a day to day basis. Did he pick his sister up from her after school program? How long has he been writing? A lot of kids I know, no matter how much they like the sports they play, were originally put into them by parents hoping they could be something great, but what would he want to be if he wanted to be something different? Did he ever read the maximum ride series? Does he actually like dragon ball Z or is it more of a cultural osmosis thing?

K is deeply relatable to me on a number of levels (nonbinary tumblrina) but also deeply alien. Do they talk to their family at all? Do they feel remorse for cyber bullying people over steven universe? Do they get mad at themself when they have to remember people cant just be tropes, they also have to be people? Even themself? When will they go to therapy????

Sam black, britain, butler my beloved. Fellow child of divorce, how much did that influence your comunication? How long has being an influencer been her focus? Does she actually want to inluence, or does she just want friends? She struggled in school, did anyone ever try to help? Would it have been better or worse to be on an iep plan? Does she still talk to her family much now that shes famous, is it out of love, or out of that family wanting her support and her energy? How has T2 stayed a teacup pig? Those usually grow into potbelly pigs of some sort. Does she feel like her magic has actually hampered her ability to connect with others because she is so easily liked? What were the sailor moon forums like, what happened after your pink pal stopped liking pink?

Also to the magic mommy of all time, what was Bombini's life like? A 600+ year old wizard who seems to have lost everything dear to him and is upholding the memory of people long lost built on foundations that were crumbling from the start. Dudes middle name is kyle. He seems like a paralell to our sad ass white boy, if they had decided to uphold the nature of magic and the old ways, would evan have become like him? A shuffling, sad, impossibly old steward? Also whats happening on tadershacourt. Whos the shadow man with Khan.

God i have so many questions, im deeply glad misfits and magic got a season 2 but i do think it has just given me more to be insane about. I managed this with only 4 eps and a holiday special, im gonna explode. Truely the tumblr coded series of all time.

[ladyodium]

I Could Not Prevent It

S2x7

TW: I am going to be discussing some very heavy topics. I will ask that yall respect these topics. I will be going into Domestic Violence, Lynching, Racism, R/pe, and Gore. (SPOILERS IF YOU CONTINUE TO READ!)

So, as a Black Woman this was a hard watch. From the beginning of the lynching Louis, Claudia and Madeline were bagged and dragged off into an unknown place. Louis was being beaten on the floor while Claudia was thrown in the rat box and had people on top of it so she wouldn’t get out.

I want y’all to notice how only Madeleine is not harmed, Santiago is messing with her mind, but Claudia and Louis are being physical harmed. They all had their achilles tendons cut to the bone to prevent them from walking, they weren’t allowed to speak and if they did the coven vampires would punish them. Claudia and Louis lose their names, they are now “The accused”, Madeleine is the only one whose name is said.

The bagging, dragging, the torture, the beatings, and the mock trial all hit a little too close to home. You have two Black people and a Jewish person on stage and I can’t help but think how traumatizing this must be for Madeline. Who was dragged from her shop by an angry mob, forced on her knees and had her head shaved. Then she continued to have constant harassment on her shop and person, let’s not forget she was almost graped, and no one was going to save her. 

The film that shows in the back ground as Lestat is telling his “story” is such an important detail. “A white man who just came to New Orleans and is being Hunted by a Black male.” We the viewers know that this isn’t true. Lestat pursued Louis, Lestat wanted Louis, Lestat was obsessed with Louis. But Louis can’t convey that, he’s not allowed to speak, to defend himself. Claudia, Louis and Madeline have to sit and watch a Butch of white people laugh and mock them. They have to sit and suffer for something that was really their last option. 

Diction is very important. When Santiago is questioning Lestat he uses words like “you were forced to…you were manipulated….you were sad, and lonely….you had no choice.”

Lestat is the victim in this lynching, he was the one who was hurt, not Louis, not Claudia. He was a victim of love and passion! Of loneliness! Louis was the one who pursued him, manipulated him, made him lonely.

“I..,a vampire, was being hunted…”

“Louis was saying “come to me”…

“Speaking your own unspeakable desires…in hopes that I would come to you”

“Louis was deceptively agile with words”

“He abandoned me in our town house”

Lestat is not the victim in his relationship with Louis. Is Lestat a victim and an abuser? Yes, these two things can be true at the same time, but he was not the victim for what he did to Louis.

Claudia and Louis are described to be these two black vampires who killed their loving Maker (master). The flashback to the fight that happened really messed with me, so I’m just gonna believe that Louis, Lestat and Claudia’s versions of the fights some of them were true. The portrayal of trying to make Louis this monster who rejected Lestat and was an animal himself because he consumed animal blood is telling.

Often Black people are seen as monsters, they are the aggressors even when we are victims. I want people to understand how Louis and Claudia being Black played into their vampirism. They are immortal creatures of the night, but they are still BLACK. New Orleans was notorious for its lynching and Louis was not safe from that, no Black person was. People will say Louis was a pimp and he’s manipulating Armand and Lestat, but I feel like yall fail to understand that Louis didn’t have options. A black man in 1960 New Orleans didn’t have the options to become anything greater than what white people allowed him to be. We see that when he plays the poker game, when he helps Anderson and gets called a Nigger, and when the race riots happen and they burned down his business. 

“She called me an angel…..they burned her building because of me….”

(Context: Claudia thought Louis was God’s angel coming to save her and Louis feels guilty because she was going to die just because Louis was a black man dominating the market. )

Santiago has humiliated Claudia by making her this minstrel act. To have her sing, dance, and parade around like a fool in front of a white audience. He hates that Louis doesn’t want to join them, and that Louis is fine by himself. Louis grimacing as he watches Claudia was my face throughout that episode. He then displays her private diaries to an audience, he tells them to pass it around! Mocks her accent, makes fun at her pain and sorrows. I’m pretty sure he read what happened to her with that vampire who graped her.

She’s not a victim anymore but a prop they can laugh at and mock for their own amusement. She was right when she said “this isn’t a trial, it’s a stoning.” It’s a lynching happening in real time. Notice how Madeleine is the only one allowed the option of redemption, she’s allowed to choose her fate. She chooses death with her companion, and she had my heart for that. She really was a ride or die.

Claudia’s last act is to perform her song to the masses one more time because that’s what she was, entertainment. The way Santiago picks up her yellow dress as some kind of token really made me think of how millions of white people would have picnics and bring their children to watch the burning, lynching of black people and then they would take tokens of the kill.

To conclude, this was a hard episode and Lestat was pissing me off. Also, ARMAND IN HIS LITTLE ASS PLAYPEN?! BFFR! Shout out to the actors! They really made this episode.

[luciawithoutj]

Hey hi hello!

I have some things to say about new merch and jo merch in general so this is gonna be a litrle longer post and actually I think I should cange my semiotics theme (which is already about jo) about how bad their merch design is.

First of all little disclaimer: this is all my humble opionion based on what I learned in my one year of being graphic design student and an artist and designer on the internet for last 4-5 years. Before going to uni I learned most of about art and graphic design stuff by reading books and watching tons of yt videos. Second of all this critic is just coming from place of love for this band because I see so mucb potential and they could do some amazing merch designs if they give it a chance and I am fully aware how expensive the touring is and why they had to cut the quality of merch products.

So far my favorite jo band merch designs are cds (that probably required some designer to make), condoms (because they are really funny, genius, nicely designed and unique merch that fit the vibe of the band and matches their songs as well) and the new tshirt from last merch drop (which design is made by one slovenian fanartist : link.

Main reason that made me want to speak up is seeing that this merch drop will only have 100 products (my friend said that could mean 20-ish shirts per size) which how big this fandom has gotten in last year is pretty really dam limited. For a limited product I am really disappointed and I hoped for more. For such a limited product that design is the most default design they could have gone for and I am so sorry for Damon because his work is goregous, amazing, breathtaking and I could talk about it for ages and how inspiring it is but this shirt design isn't serving.

If they wanted to do bare minimum of design with those 5 images here is some of my ideas (unfortunately I don't have time to visually show them to yall on a mock ups because of finals that I should be studying for instead of writing this so try to imagine what I am trying to say and demonstrate). First is just simple instead of white choose black shirt or even better a thisrt. If you want it to go a stepp further is using their name logo font (font name is Avaline btw if anyone wants to download and use it for their designs :))) and either put it how they did when they promoted the everybody's waiting or to write idk therapy sessions or anything related to the band or it can even be some inside joke.

Something like this would make design just a bit more intersting but still bare minimum but amazing for regular merch. If they want to go a step further but want to keep the long sleeves (this idea was suggested by few people I talked too) they could put pictures vertically on the sleeves. I would find it a bit cooler if it is on the right sleeve out-side and then they put their band logo (the heart one) on the left side of the shirt where people's hearts normally are.

After exams I would definitely like to try to make some designs and just limit myself with this 5 pictures and play with typography and photoshoop to make something interesting.

Another I want to mentioned is how in my humble opinion if you are gonna sell limited edition either make it really pretty or good quality or really cursed and funny with inside jokes.

I think people (and me first) would eat tshirts (but also other merch designs) with some cursed designs or just texts that say "sparklative" or "slay pose" or "I feel SloveNACE" (this 3 were suggested by amazing people in tumblr discord server) or even let Jan photoshoop their faces on most random picture. This 5 guys with their gen z humour could make and do some hilarious merch like how amazing idea the condoms are.

Last thing I want to say is how many amazingly talented fans are. I mean even Damon was so shocked and moved by amount of talent and art made in this community. Furthermore I know (some of them as online friends and mutuals, others as just artists from same fandom) who are also either graphic design students or they work in art/graphic design/entertainment fields and some of them (including myself) would be so happy to even make few merch designs or art for them for freee or for a ticket for their show. Personally I would die from happiness if I get a chance to work with my favorite band that inspires me so much everyday to the point people at my uni think I am from Slovenia and know slovenian because of how much I include them in my uni work and how much fanart and designs I made because of them in last 6 months.

I just think there is so much potential guys might not be aware of (Idk honestly because who knows what is going on backstage in their lives). But yeah they could have even asked Damon to help them with composition of the pictures on that shirt or even hire Racik to make some pretty art or any fanartist honestly. Here is just few links of my favorite fanartists who also do a lot of graphic design related stuff (and also some of them sell their products on their own websites/redbubble/etsy/inprint/etc) :

Tia <3

Roxanne

Vic

jo.kam_ (previously mentioned her design)

Lemon

yelecx

Racik (ofc)

There is probably more but my brain for hell of it won't remember any names so feel free to add in the comments or tags more artists <3

I could probably go more in depth and give more ideas how to improve merch designs the cheapest and best way as possible but still trying to keep the quality good as it needs to be. I know there is still gonna be people fighting for this shirts and people are still gonna buy their merch but just it hurts my art/designer soul seeing this bad designs when there is so much potential and they have amazing fans and amazing crew and they work with so many talnted people and they themselves are so talented and their music inspired so many and so much.

Thanks everyone for coming to my TedTalk. <3

Actually now I am thinking and from just talking about jo work from design and semiotics perspective for that semiotics seminar I could just focus on their merch design and go more in detail about it and if yall want when it is done and I translate it in english I could share it here for people who want to read about it. Let me know I guess.

Also if someone is interested my art and design insta is lucia.without.j and my redbubble is lucia-without-j and my dms are always open if someone wants to chat or complain about anything art, design, joker out or any other fandom I am in related.

P. S. I am so sorry for any spelling mistakes and if what I said doesn't make sense. English isn't my first language.

[altf4d3lete]

Episode One this is single-handedly bringing back my obsession even though it never left

- its 2022. Why is everyone freaked out bc a girl wears all black. Like people do that on a daily basis nowadays

- PUGSLEY POOR GUY :(

- “I want names” didn’t you JUST see them walking away from the locker

- Stop shoving him in a locker tied up is actually so mean wtf

- I see people use this piranha scene as justification that she’d be okay with murder, but really it’s justification that she wouldn’t be okay with people hurting her friends and those she cares about AT ALL. She’s trying to KILL these guys just for bullying their brother. Imagine what she’d do to Tyler for hurting Eugene and Enid.

- The intro is SO fucking cool

- Emma was so far down on the list of actors and now my girl is #3 behind Jenna and buscemi. She’s a main character now B)

- If I were Wednesday I’d be pissed too. I CANT with the parents. Like I love you but RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER 😭

- It’s five minutes in and I have so many notes

- Have to say again with the “terrible, they’d know I didn’t get the job done” that Wednesday is MORBID, not okay with murder unless she deems the person deserves it

- Ergh there is clearly so much discrimination against outcasts

- Weems and morticia r lowkey giving homoerotic rivalry…

- I FORGOT HOW FUNNY WEDNESDAY IS

- I genuinely can’t even like… I CANT WHY DID WEEMS PAIR HER WITH ENID 😭

- Guys Enid is SO cute holy fuck. She is UNPHASED bro, she’s just so excited to have a roommate she’s so cute I’m sobbing. She just wanted to accept Wednesday.

- YALL WHEN THEYRE WALKING DOWN THE STEPS WEDNESDAY LITERALLY GRAVITATES TOWARDS ENID. LITERALLY RUNS INTO HER

- Wednesday just lies about killing two kids to Enid and Enid just moved on like nothing happened.

- Also HELLO? THEIR BANTER? Enid takes NO shit 😭

- Hmm part of me wonders if those wolves howling were making fun of Enid.

- They’re literally leaning into each other wha

- “You better watch your back” and Wednesday is behind her that’s so funny

- How do you go from “cute but clueless” to “obsessed” enjax was lowkey forced whereas wenclair had chemistry from the beginning

- AW PUGSLEY HES SO CUTE

- Wednesday being a housewife will NEVER make sense

- I know people hate the relationship between Wednesday and morticia but it’s very realistic. You can easily tell they still love each other despite the harsh words.

- YEESH THE HYDE TORE HIM APART (I think this works with my theory that the more Tyler is aware of the Hyde, the more controlled his attacks get. Which also means that he knew what he was doing when he killed Kinbott, leaving her alive to taste her fear. And he knew what he was doing in the forest when he tried to kill Wednesday and nearly attacked his father)

- WENCLAIR FIGHT THEYRE SO FUNNY TOGETHER THEY ARGUE LIKE AN OLD COUPLE

- when did Wednesday check out enid’s blog. How and why.

- THE LITTLE SCOFF BEFORE “you mean emojis?”

- Enid huffing is crazy girly is ANGRY

- The way they just stare each other down is crazy wenclair is SO full of banter I forgot how hilarious they are

- ENID SIDE EYES WEDNESDAY SO MUCH

- Bianca lowkey eating everyone up…

- Bianca is so aggressive in her fighting style, whereas Wednesday is precise. It’s really cool

- THE GASPING IN THE BACKGROUND AFTER “let’s see if you bleed in black and white.”

- Xavier scoffs so much in this show and every time he does it lowkey makes me hate him more

- “No good deed goes unpunished” okay elphaba

- Girly was smiling when she was about to die.

- DUDE WHY WAS XAVIER LEANING OVER HER? WHO DOES THAT? JUST SIT DOWN NEXT TO HER.

- “Call it instinct” shut up actually

- Bro she had NO clue who Xavier was 😭

- It bothers me that ppl think she cared Xavier was in the coffin. She just wanted to see the godmother come back to life fr

- THING HAHA MY FAV

- I would be flabbergasted if my therapist read the equivalent of my journal before our sessions. She never should have been sent that.

- Ergh Tyler…

- The deep voice lowkey sounds really forced, idk what it is about Tyler’s voice but it bugs me. I think it’s the way his lines always kinda have the same delivery.

- Twenty bucks when he probably makes that in like half a day of work 😭

- The pilgrims look like such dorks bro who are they tryna scare 💀

- Why are they asking her if she’s “been with a normie” that’s so weird

- “THIS LITTLE THING TOOK DOWN THREE BOYS???” HELP

- Her playing with the necklace means everything to me

- Damn the hiker was the third victim

- The sheet music doesn’t match what she was playing but that doesn’t rly matter

- Love that enid went from disgusted to things bff

- Their roof scene is so meaningful to me. They work so well together. Enid doesn’t need anyone but Wednesday and Wednesday doesn’t need anyone but Enid. Enid teaches her how to relate to others and feel empathy and Wednesday teaches Enid to unapologetically be herself.

- Nero :(

- Them bonding is so cute 😭 this is rekindling my obsession

- Notice the immediate disrespect from Tyler but Enid gets close with thing so quickly

- Damn Enid is suspicious. Bro has some killer instincts

- “Hint taken” and Xavier proceeds to KEEP talking to her

- So Wednesday gives Tyler a time and place and you’re telling me it’s just a coincidence that those three pilgrims show up at that exact time at place? Literally there WAITING? No way. Tyler had to have told them, sorry about it.

- I lowkey feel bad for Weems. She’s a little controversial but she was just trying to do her best for nevermore

- Nah man that was an absolute ploy. There’s no way they just happened to know where to be. Tyler was trying to keep her from leaving. He already knew who she was by then and that they needed her.

- Rowan was so conflicted he didn’t deserve to die. He was just trying to protect people

- The way she scrambled over to him even after he tried to kill her :(

- YALL I LOVE THIS SHOW WTF 😭

[aprilmayverse]

mayverse dash simulator

💅 pinkprlncesses Follow

🧟‍♀️ samuraishattered Follow op this is an incredibly fucked up and insensitive way to post about this. six people are dead. four of them are literal children. imagine losing a loved one and people are fucking memeing about it with supernatural. grow up. learn some fucking respect for the dead. this isn't just some quirky little fandom story like sharpie bath or whatever. these are real kids who had hopes and dreams and families and loved ones and now they are dead.

💅 pinkprlncesses Follow was it ever really that deep

🦴 trudycryme Follow New video about June July and Dysnomia Badmann's murders on the way! Special surprise at the end so stay tuned ;) Sponsored by Tender Lender <3

🦴 trudycryme Follow No fucking way

🩰 blood-and-books Follow wait, has anyone noticed that the accomplice in the bluecorp case and that 13 year old who killed her gfs parents and 2 random boys are half-sisters??

🍭 mera-duras-left-eyebrow Follow WAIT AND THEIR OLDEST SISTER HAD LINKS W/ BLUECORP TOO WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN

🪷 helloroses Follow does anyone remember how fucked up april may's career was. i rewatched pint-sized princesses after the news got out about her execution and like i know it was the 90s but what the fuck was going on there. it feels like a crime to watch it

🪷 helloroses Follow it's the same with her modelling career, why was she, a teenage girl, doing so many photoshoots where she was barely clothed. why did ad campaigns need all this

🦢 evilwomanenjoyer Follow why are we defending june july in 2018. she killed people. she murdered people. you are the same people who defend joe darke and dahlia hawthorne and matt engarde and fucking redd white. she took lives. where am i.

🐜 what-is-a-username420 Follow please learn about nuance and use your brain

🦢 evilwomanenjoyer Follow nuance is for fictional characters like pious priestess or whoever the fuck. not for real life situations like this.

🐜 what-is-a-username420 Follow sometimes im like "the reading comprehension on this site isnt THAT bad" and then i read shit like "nuance is for fiction not for real life"

🦴 trudycryme Follow I am truly, truly sorry for attempting to film those teenagers corpses and for breaking into the victims childhood home in an attempt to interview his family 2 days after the murder, I understand why I was wrong and I'm going to try my best to refrain from doing stuff like that next time lol. To further this, I'm starting a new merch collection and donating 20% of profits to JAVCV (Japanifornian Association for Victims of Violent Crime), buy it before the sale ends on March 4th!

🧟‍♀️ samuraishattered Follow not to be harsh but i hope you die

🌈 godsstrongestfujo Follow i think april may was a genuinely a bad person like she was just this rich woman who both did the modelling campaign + assisted in the murder to get money from her sugar daddy. shes not as innocent as yall make her out to be she just has pretty privelege

🍁 diskhorse-divorce Follow 1. she was not rich. she, her single mother, and sister were homeless for years. she had to be a child star and teen model to provide for herself and her family. they lived in a trailer at some point 2. she was very obviously being threatened by white. the courts said it was a lie because of fucking misogyny and white's power over her. 3. even if she did do it out of her own free will she still got executed over a crime where the death penalty at age 23 was not justified. 4. why are you calling a thirteen year old a bad person for doing an ad campaign where she was being heavily sexualised and exploited and stolen from you fucking weirdo

🩰 angelfawns Follow april may was such a tragic girl and an icon and so beautiful omg. she looked SO good during the summer 2008 ad campaign for bluecorp too. hold on i need to change my pfp

🐦‍⬛ proud-edgelord Follow if my parents named me teylhoure i wouldve killed myself too

[queerponcho]

Transfixed | part 4

previous part | part 5

collage made by me with pictured from pinterest

moonknight!system x female!reader

a/n: I can't even begin to tell yall how cool i feel to have people reading what i write lmao. last week was super busy- i worked six days straight but i am so happy to finally post another chapter!! hope you like/ comment/ reblog if you enjoy(≧∇≦)ﾉ

Warnings: no use of Y/N, fluff, NOT beta read, gushing about the moonboys, flustered awkward dorks, plot-twists, Jake being a menace, Marc simping HARD, Steven being a cutie as always, spanish (without translations), if I missed anything or made any spelling mistakes pls don't hesitate to tell me!

Summary: finally ya'll get to read about the DATE!! Steven can barily hold it together and Marc stands on the side lines...at least that was the plan, but we all know that plans are made to be ignored. So Steven will unfortunately be interrupted by his brothers...more than once

4,800 words

‘He's here’ you mutter to yourself, running to the door making sure it's him and pushing the button to the intercom. ‘Yes, hello?’

The sweet voice rips him from his worry that he might’ve rang the wrong door despite checking the name and address for the millionth time. ‘..hello?’ you repeat unsurely into the intercom. ‘YES- uh i- yes hello, it’s Steven?’ he almost slaps himself mentally at his awkwardness but doesn't, when he hears your lively giggle easing him out of self-doubt. You buzz him in and he quickly pushes the door open. Making his way into the older looking building and going in the elevator. You quickly check your reflection in the hall mirror and apply the last layer of your favourite lipgloss when you hear the elevator doors creak open at the end of the hall. ‘You can do this- just be yourself!’ your reflection cringes at the self-pep-talk and you turn away from the mirror finally opening the door. You peek your head out the door and see Steven cautiously walking down the hall looking at all the nametags on the Apartments, before finally spotting you waiting at your entrance. He hurries towards you, you smile warmly at him and he returns the gesture with a flushed boyish grin. You stand in front of each other and you decide to break the silence ‘are these for me?’ you point to the flowers in his right hand. They were beautiful white flowers with red edges. ‘Yes, I- they’re carnations. I hope you like them’ he makes swift eye contact and rests his eyes back on the flowers, almost making you melt at his shy smile. ‘I love them, thank you Steven. Come in! I’ll quickly put them in a Vase before we leave.’ you step back into your apartment and wait for him to come in to close the door behind him.

He steps in and is immediately enveloped in your sweet scent. The Lighting is a warm yellow-y tone, the apartment is definitely not modern and looked rather old, but your personal furniture and decor gave it a youthful and warm ambience. All of it was very you. He loved it. ‘Did you have a hard time finding the apartment? I remember how I used to get lost easily in the first few weeks after I'd moved here.’ you ask him while picking out a vase from the cupboard. ‘Oh no, it was fairly easy to find- I think I've actually passed through here a few times before.’ he says pensively, still standing by the door not really knowing where to move. ‘I really like your home’ Steven says while looking around your open-plan apartment. He could even catch a glance of your bedroom from here, he wondered what it looked like in there…if he would ever get to see it personally…before he can fall down that rabbit hole he hears you answer. ‘Oh, um- thanks’ he catches you smiling and notices how you bite the inside of your bottom lip. He tries to not get caught up in the way you look while flustered like this- it was definitely doing something to him…he just wasn't sure what exactly, or rather he didn’t want to think about it too hard right now. Maybe later when he was back home…’So! Is the restaurant within walking distance or do we have to take the bus? Cuz if we have to take the bus I'll bring my bus-card.’ Steven blankly stares at you with a shocked expression ‘oh bugger, i totally forgot to tell you’ he mutters and avoids eye-contact but continues ‘all the restaurants are closed tonight-’ ‘oh-’ he sees your face fall but continues ‘yeah, I-i noticed a few hours ago and totally forgot to mention it to you since I was so busy buying and preparing the dinner, I am so sorry love- I- i understand if you don’t feel comfortable with going to my place-’ Stevens rambling is interrupted by your hands grasping his left hand, which had been resting on the countertop. Steven just stares at his hand enveloped in yours ‘you cooked for me?’ He snaps his head up and sees your soft smile and warm eyes. He can almost feel his knees give out at the sight in front of him, just now noticing what you're wearing and how beautiful you look in that too-big sweater. ‘Well…yes. Admittedly it might not be amazing but i-’ ‘I’m sure it's great steven, I can't wait to try it.’ you let go of his hand and he watches you grab your long coat and bag. You both head out the door and make your way out the building, on the way down he notices how his hand had somehow ended up back in yours, he feels his brain going fuzzy at the feeling of your hand enveloping his.

Your POV

Okay well yes, going to a guys place on the first date was something you wouldn't do on a usual date. But this isn't a usual date, is it? This is Steven, and well; Marc and Jake…can't really compare this to a regular dinner with some stranger. In the elevator you catch him looking at you from the corner of your eye. He notices you looking and turns a pretty shade of red, immediately moving his glance back towards the door. You have to bite back a giggle and make a move to take his hand back in yours. as soon as your fingers touch you feel your fingers tingle again. Just like when you were in the kitchen you get this tingling sensation and feel his heartbeat in your palm. As if you were holding his heart in your hand. As cheesy as it sounds, it's almost like you’ve felt this in another lifetime or like this has happened before…

You opt to walk to his place and stroll along the busy London street and talk about casual things like his work in the museum. Apparently he just got a job as a tour-guide in the museum of history and did tours of the different exhibits. His favourite being the Egyptian one. He seems fascinated by your interest in Egyptology and immediately basks in your attention, explaining tons of things to you and almost exploding with energy anytime you ask a question. Answering with “that's such an interesting question-“ or “many historians have speculated and cant seem to agree but I think-“. You can’t help but be almost entranced by his huge urge to teach you about something he clearly loves so much. You have hyper-fixations of your own so you feel very lucky that he's comfortable enough to indulge in his, so freely.  

He slows you both down and steers you towards an old looking apartment building in an okay part of town. It's very central but has the older charm just like your place. you let go of his hand and watch him fumble with his keys. He seems distracted and you hear him mumbling something. You assume he’s talking to Marc and don't feel like it’s your place to butt into their quick exchange. You head in and he closes the door behind you walking you toward the elevator. ‘My favourite god? Oh well that's a hard one-’ ‘Steven, you haven't asked her shit about her interests, shut up for a minute and let her talk!’ ‘bollocks, you’re right- so um, ‘nough about me…you like drawing, eh?’

flustered at the sudden switch of topic you answer quickly ‘yes- I-I love drawing, have loved to draw all my life basically’ ‘oh so you’re a proper artist then! I’d love to see some of your work’ Steven smiles eyes shining with interest ‘well- you’ve seen some before…remember?’ you say and giggle when you notice Stevens face change from fascinated and sweet to shock and somehow…blushing fear? His mouth agape, while staring into your eyes ‘how could I forget’ standing very close once again, you'd moved really close during the too-long elevator ride. Standing toe to toe, staring longingly into eachothers eyes. Marc is pretty sure Steven has never kept eye-contact for this long consecutively. 

But the spell breaks when the old elevator doors creak open and a dim ‘ding’ is emitted from the lift speaker. Steven clears his throat, the first to break the tension and turns away from you walking ahead to his apartment. You manage to unstick your feet from the floor and follow him.

You walk towards a deep navy blue door with the number 502 on it in gold metal letters. Even just the door looks homey and perfectly favours Stevens characteristics. The dark blue representing his shy nature but abundance in knowledge and love to give, the latter you haven't experienced first hand but you’ve felt it each time you touched him and held his hands.

The gold letters shining like his intense passionate nature, the one he exhibited when he told you all about egypt and the ennead. You may have known a lot of what he told you already, but it was so much nicer to hear it in his voice than it was to read it in those dusty forgotten books in the library. 

‘Here we are, welcome to my humble abode’ Steven chuckles and opens the door for you. You return his remark with a roll of your eyes accompanied by a stifled giggle and walk in. If the door of the apartment already told you so much about him, his flat was as if you’d held up a mirror in front of his mind.

It looked exactly like what you’d expect- except for the tidiness…with the little information you’ve gathered on Steven, he certainly didn't seem like a very organised guy. Even just the way he holds a conversation can be all over the place (which admittedly you kinda love), you just assumed his place would reflect that. You leave that thought and look over to Steven, only to realise he’d finished taking the dish out of the oven and had been watching you. He looks back down at the dish quickly,

‘I- well we made a lasagna, well two actually- one vegan and one with meat. Realised I never asked ya which you prefer so we made both’ he says while taking out the meat lasagna out of the oven and placing it on the wooden counter. You can't believe he made two lasagnas instead of just calling and asking. He doesnt stop being adorable and that makes you crave his closeness even more. Once again your mind is reeling with the question you keep asking yourself…”why do i feel so connected to him…” Jake you understand…then again, even he had you in a trance much too quickly. You aren't one to fall in love or even find many non-ficitonal people attractive and captivating. Recognising their beauty, yes. You are an artist so of course you can appreciate someone's beauty, but getting up to follow someone through the library, that was definitely a one-time thing you did only with Jake. He- well they had like a pulling energy around them that felt like it was tugging you closer to them.

You realise that you might’ve been staring at Steven for a bit too long since he started shifting and fidgeting uncomfortably. His face, a deep shade of red. ‘I-is there something wrong?- d’do you not like lasagna? I-I could ask Marc to whip up something el-’ Steven is already cursing himself out mentally for not asking you what you like to eat when he feels your hand around his arm. You tug him closer and pull him into a hug, squeezing him close as if he were to disappear in the next few seconds. You thread your fingers into his curls and tug him even closer. Hearing his breath hitch you feel him melt into your touch and nuzzle his nose into the crook of your neck, calming down by your touch once again. You feel his heartbeat but this time it resonates through your entire body, your hearts beating in unison.

He takes a deep breath and you blush at his content sighing. You hear him mumble something into your shoulder. ‘Hmm?’ ‘So the lasagna is okay then?’ you laugh and keep petting his head softly ‘I love lasagna’ you both pull back and you look into his eyes teasingly ‘and I'd love to try both of em’ you part from your hug completely and shoot him a wink. He blushes and he continues setting everything up while you take a stroll through his open-plan flat. 

You hear clanking in the kitchen and low mumbling, you’re sure Marc and Steven are discussing the previous moment. You give them their space and blend out the noise while looking through the impressive book collection. You assume it’s Stevens with all the egyptology and history titles, you find a few Greek mythology books that you’ve also read yourself before, you love to take a dive into that world regularly and can’t wait to discuss it with Steven. Just at the thought of him, you can feel his heartbeat against your ribcage again, it feels so calming and almost entrancing.

You continue walking along the bookshelf, when you walk past a large fish-tank. It was pretty much situated in the middle of the open flat. In it were two goldfish swimming calmly, merely floating peacefully in the water. In the reflection of the glass you could see Steven zooming from one side to the other gathering the last few things to complete the dinner “presentation”. A fond smile graces your lips when you notice the postcards and quotes around the tank. Some were handwritten post-it notes with french phrases written on them. You move on and keep wandering through the apartment.

You are brought back from your thoughts, when you step into…sand? You notice a ring of sand around Stevens bed, this reminds you once again of the fact that no one knows of your location or these boys. You are in the midst of contemplating a text to your friends when you hear Steven shout- ‘Love, dinner is ready!’ You quickly put your phone back into your bag. You shuffle towards the living room table and try not to fold over at the domestic image before you. Steven is wearing a cute white apron with red strawberries printed on it. In one hand he is holding a bottle of wine, you bite back a smile when you notice he is trying to open the bottle and is visibly struggling.

It’s probably because he forgot to take off the right oven-mitt and the corkscrew keeps slipping out between the fabric. You make your way over to him and envelope his mitt-covered hand with yours slipping the corkscrew out of his limp hand easily. After opening the bottle you sniff at it, checking for the scent and humming at the familiar smell of red wine. ‘Next time, maybe try it without the oven-mitts’ you say with a teasing lilt in your voice and look up at him.

You’d taken off your shoes when you had entered the flat, leaving you in only your wool socks. You have to slightly look up at him only to see him…gazing. He looks at you with a content and loving expression, his eyes shiny and his cheeks flushed. He is breathing steadily and you can feel the warmth radiating off of him and you want to reach out again and smother him in affection that is definitely too early to be giving at this point of your relationship.

You’d moved between him and the table, leaving you wedged in between. You feel yourself getting lost in his eyes, the never ending deep essence in them seemingly carrying so much weight. The eyes, surrounded by tired and reddened skin, made him look that much more vulnerable, making your heart flutter even further for him. You break your eye-contact when you look down at the bottle, and move to hold it up to Steven. ‘Will you do the honours?’ you say with a cheeky smile. ‘Oh, it would be my absolute pleasure darling.’ he says while taking the bottle out of your hand, lingering more than necessary, making the tingle in your fingertips return once again. You keep watching him as he fills up both of your glasses.

‘Alright, I think everything is ready. Take a seat.’ Steven takes off the apron, gestures at the chair in front of him and pulls it out for you, motioning at you to take a seat. You hate how much the gentleman spiel is working on you, but there is a reason why it was established so long ago isn’t there. People doing things specifically to make your life easier, to protect and to impress you has got to be one of the hottest things anyone could ever do. You give in and take a seat on the comfy wooden chair and place the napkin on your lap, watching Steven as he makes his way around the table to take a seat himself. It's a small round table, it has a white table-cloth on it and two candles on a little plate placed at the centre of it. You even hear faint music playing in the back, they had clearly put effort into impressing you and it made your heart almost beat out of your chest.

‘Thank you both so much for cooking, I’m so excited to try this.’ you offer them a thankful smile and Steven returns it with a quick blush and nervous gaze. You look down at your portion of lasagna, Steven had served you half a piece of each dish so you could try them both simultaneously. You pick up your fork and dig in and it's- delicious ‘mhh this is so good omg’ you all but moan at the flavours collecting and mingling in your mouth. You look up when you don't hear any response or even soft acknowledgement toward your statement. You see Steven sitting there in front of his barely eaten vegan lasagna, staring nervously onto the plate. ‘Steven?’

Before Marc can stop it, he is teleported into fronting. It's been a long time since he was so quickly shoved into control and can’t help but feel bad for Steven for being stuck in the back in such an anticipated moment. Before he can even try and apologise to him he makes note of his surroundings realising quickly what the trigger must’ve been. Steven had taken but one bite of the vegan lasagna and had probably remembered the taste of the lasagna their dad made Marc for his birthday…the one before…before Marc can think any further about his troubling childhood memories, he hears you. ‘Steven?’ you say cautiously. shit - this is so awkward, he has to save himself and he tries to do it in the only way that comes to mind; pretending to be Steven. ‘I-i am olroight luv-oll good’ he puts on an uncomfortable grin and is admittedly kind of impressed with himself. He had previously pretended to be Steven when he used to work in the gift-shop. No-one used to talk to him there though so he just had to continue working to save face. He continues eating and pretends to take a sip of wine, trying to behave and move like Steven does.

You’re a bit confused… Just moments before, Steven seemed really happy and comfortable, now he kinda looked all stiff and was acting really strange. You wonder if they might’ve switched again because he seemed so abruptly different, or maybe one of the other guys had said something to make him nervous. Trying to take his mind off it, you distract him with friendly and curious conversation. ‘So Steven, what made you choose the lasagna as the perfect dish for tonight?’ you ask genuinely curious, already almost finished with your plate. ‘It’s an old famly recepey- o-our dad um I mean father used to make it..’ too focused on the switch of emotion in his eyes, you forget to keep looking for anything that might lead to an explanation to his strange behaviour. He looked kind of sentimental and you feel him wanting to hold things back, before you can tell him that he doesn’t have to tell you anything he’s uncomfortable with, he continues. ‘It’s one of the best memories I have with him, making this lasagna for my birthday…back when everything felt so…right…’ you sit there awestruck by the raw emotion on his face. The warm candle-light reflecting in his tear-welled eyes and casting beautiful shadows on his face, you’re mesmerised. He huffs out a deep breath and clears his throat, lifting his head back up to meet your gaze, smiling at you softly. ‘It’s basically the only thing I know how to make properly’. You don’t notice his accent changing from a bad british, to a chicagen one and instead compliment him on the great job he did.  ‘Well, it’s very delicious.’ you say contentedly and faintly see his face turn a soft pink at your praise. 

‘Oi! So you’re allowed to tell her all about our business but I'm not? That’s very rich of you Marc, you...you hypocrite!’ Steven exclaims into Marc's consciousness, entirely pissed at the fact that Marc basically stole his date from him. ‘Shut up, Steven-’ Marc says through gritted teeth, trying to hide his slip up with a badly timed fake cough. Despite Marc's effort, you hear him, finally putting all the pieces together and notice that you might be facing Marc right now and not Steven. You feel a sense of excitement at meeting this new alter and can’t wait to find out more about him. It did bug you a little that he was trying to pretend to be Steven instead of just telling you, but still, you understood his apprehension since this wasn’t a regular situation for either of you. You hear Marc clear his throat and bring your attention back to him. ‘I’m so glad you loike it dahrlin we really did ouah behst’ now that you had connected the dots to this man being Marc, you had a really hard time trying to ignore the terrible british accent. You hold your breath slightly, keeping back a bubble of laughter and continue eating after smiling at him politely. ‘Marc you’re making me sound like a complete knobhead. I’m an academic for christs-sake, you could at least pretend to have some semblance of respect for me.’ Steven is a petty man, entirely unhappy with his situation, he finds it in his right to make Marc's life a bit harder right now. Another cough is heard from Marc when you hear him mutter something into his napkin. ‘Are you okay? Would you like some water?’ 

‘hmm?? No no alls good, sweets’ he quickly disputes. Now, that you can’t ignore. Despite your biggest efforts you burst into laughter, your stomach hurting from it. You feel tears forming at the corners of your eyes and see Marc gradually joining you, surely laughing just as hard as you, pressing his palms into his eye-sockets. ‘Sweets??? Really?? Steven has never called me sweets- ever’ you trail off into another fit of laughter. Marc calms down and catches his breath. 

‘Dammit- I really thought i’ve heard him say that one before’ you’re laughter dying down, you look at each other, the smiles still glued to your faces and they don’t seem to diminish even after a few minutes. ‘So…what gave me away?’ he asks curiously. ‘You have by far the worst english accent i have ever heard.’ ‘what! That was my best performance by far!’ He puts up an offended act, making you giggle and you try your best to look serious. ‘I'm so sorry to telly you, but you were terrible’ you can't keep a straight face and once again the laughter returns into the room and you wipe your eyes. He extends his hand across the table and you reach out and shake it.

‘I’m Marc’ He says, looking relieved to be able to speak in his own voice and accent once more. You introduce yourself to him and eventually, you both continue eating the lasagna and move into casual conversation. Marc tells you about how he reminded Steven of the fact that every restaurant was closed and how turbulent their day had been. How he cleaned up the apartment and tried to organise Stevens books only to give up after 2 hours and just shoving them under the bed. Cooking for you and making sure that they looked presentable, forcing Steven to use a hair-product and to put on a proper, nice shirt. At the mention of  his shirt, you trail your eyes over him. Noticing how comfortable he looked. He had folded his sleeves up to his elbow, exposing his forearms. He looked so good like this, you felt your mouth watering at the sight of him. You’d stopped listening and at some point he had stopped talking, looking at you smugly and analysing your reaction towards him. He slightly moved his hand, clenching and unclenching it. He sees you biting the inside of your lip and hears Steven in his head ‘Gods she is so beautiful like this’ ‘mmhm, she is…’

the sound of Marc's gravelly voice rips you out of your daydreams, feeling your ears heating up violently. ‘You havin’ fun there, sweetheart?’ Marc says while raising his left eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest, making them look even thicker. ‘I-oh heh…sorry’ you scratch an invisible itch on the side of your neck, and look away from him, averting your gaze from his playful smirk. You felt his gaze staying on you and can’t keep yourself from turning your head back towards him and feeling your entire body buzzing with electricity. Marc was much more intense than Steven, looked intimidating, in the best way.

He looked like he could protect anyone from anything, like he’d do anything for those he loved. His gaze, steady and confident, sure of himself but also guarded, like he wasn’t gonna show you everything right away. He wasn’t Steven afterall, who was the exception, the only man to expose himself completely to everyone without even trying to hide his genuine feelings and intentions. They were so different, all of them so unique and so unlike the other. You feel warmth spread through your body like a warm current passing from your head to your toes. ‘Nono, don’t apologise’ he leans on the table and reaches for your other hand resting on the table, holding it gingerly in his, making circles with his thumb over your hand. 

You watch the movement and look at his hand caressing yours, revelling in the returning fuzzy feeling in your mind and the tingles emitting from his touch. You feel his heartbeat again, slow and steady, like a confident but soft stomp. You feel his calloused thumb making soothing circles and close your eyes at the different sensations, humming contentedly. ‘Hmm’ you humm with the familiar song playing in the back, it was a track from Natalia Lafourcade ‘Caminar bonito, my favourite-’ before you can finish the thought, you hear the chair before you slide backwards over the floor. You look up and see Marc, standing next to you and he tugs you upwards to stand with you.

Now you’re both standing and he tugs you towards the open space in front of the huge archway that they had made into Stevens' bookcase. You’re standing flush against him, chests close together and he takes your left hand in his, intertwining your fingers and moves his other hand to your waist.

His thumb continues soothing you and you place your other hand on his shoulder. You start swaying to the beat of the song, easing into each other's movements. You rest your head on his shoulder and he moves his hand, which was resting on your waist, to the middle of your lower back. You move your intertwined hands closer to you, hugging them towards you and move your other hand from his shoulder to the nape of his neck, softly petting his grown out locks at the back of his neck. Gently swaying from side to side you continue humming to the record. Several minutes later you look up at him and see him already looking at you. Feeling and hearing your heart-beats synced up and the soft beat of the music was making your vision almost blurry. Both of you softly sway to the music, pattering your sock-covered feet on the hardwood floor. He untangles your fingers and holds your hand in his, you feel his hand on your lower back lead you to make a twirl. You both smile and you successfully make the twirl and end up that much closer to him.  Your noses brushing and his, grazing your left cheek.

You let out a soft wavering breath and you look into his eyes. They were darker than before, you would recognise that look from any distance and you know that this wasn’t Marc nor was it Steven, you were certain of it. 

He speaks up, only confirming your suspicion. ‘¿Me dejas besarte, hermosa?’

a/n: This one is alot longer lmao but i promised the date so here it issss. In the next part Jake ensures that you get home safely and drives you back in his pretty car. Get ready for a cliche rain-kiss and a mysterious cliffhanger ;)

The lovely people in my taglist: @lilladyblink14 @lemongirl5910

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[fagsex]

if you say the word 'yappuccino' or any variant of 'yap' thats clearly different from the way old ladies say it (usually used to mock someone for sharing information, being emotional, just speaking as someone out of the ordinary) i am dreaming of killing you im going to be honest. if i have to read the sentence 'what is bro yapping about' i am imagining you dead like a fish.

you know what im just going to rant about my current Hates in language. current hate thats new because i had no idea was happening is all these non black people using euphemisms/replacements for the n word ??? like using a certain emoji or using an actual abbreviation for a term including the n word, both of which black people had to create to use on tiktok or other algorithmic sites. i learned they were doing this recently and that some people even thought it stood for your/name like omfg everyone hates you and your wattpad ass you really thought that? really?

another thing i hate is overutilization of 'bro' in lieu of pronoun, i dont mean like using it on occasion in lieu of pronoun or as a nickname, i mean exclusively referring to strangers with 'bro' essentially as pronoun. like a video of a woman getting pranked and the entire comment section will be 'what is bro doing' again. all white, typically teenage, boys. i am a white boy so i know it does not truly matter my stance but it is so embarrassing to read for them. and you know in a year when they move on to new aave terminology or phrasings theyll be like "remember when we were all so embarrassing" Who Is We. im not even going to list off more examples of misappropriated aave thats In right now because its inappropriate and also impossible to make a list that isnt nonexhaustive.

on a lighter note, i HATE a 'womp womp'. or a 'who asked' especially since theyre on others peoples pages.... like who asked you for your opinion on the matter? it is not a conversation you are actively opting in to this interaction and now youre making it (by commenting on it) appear to you more (this is on algorithmic sites of course).

something ive seen too many (any is too many to be honest) of is 'wheres the hate'. i dont know if yall have caught this and obviously sometimes it can be humorous, especially punching up rather than down, but it is almost always on a video, picture, or post of a disabled person or people. like always. people will be like 'i love your smile' and fifteen edgelords will comment the identical 'bro wheres the hate'. people are turning back to Shameless cruelty in waves i think we've all noticed and yes people have always been cruel online especially and yes more people seeing things = more cruel people but theres just... i dont know.

literally any variant of mocking someone for simply posting something / speaking / existing, ie the previously mentioned 'yappuccino' 'womp womp' 'who asked', are some of my biggest pet peeves. literally the post will be "i had a good day :D" and half the people will just be on a level of hating that i would not even classify as being a hater. you are a tar pit and i have reported your comment for terrorism atp

[maximwtf]

“Overexerted”

Baizhu x Reader

Words: 1490

Google docs pages: 3

Warnings: mentions of blood, sick Baizhu, spoilers of his story quest

Opening: Baizhu has another one of those days, a flare up after a few days of taking care of patients. As no one dares to say a word of what is going on with him, you can only guess. And getting through to the man to allow help is no easy task. 

AN// Reader can be any gender! Yall I’m sorry for the slight break, I think I’ve had almost every possible disease at this point. Just recently the joints on my hands got so painful I could barely open a can of soda, writing didn’t even come to mind :”D Anyway, back on track now! Requests are open again, though I am still heavily hyperfixated on genshin, so other requests will unfortunately have a slight delay ^^!

“Overexerted”

The usually lively pharmacy was awfully rather quiet on such a lovely day as it was. Not that it was a bad thing that a doctor’s office was empty, a good thing that the people of Liyue were healthy. But even on days like these the atmosphere in the building was never as grim as it was now. It had felt like you’d gone through a threshold of sorts after only stepping in. The herbalist behind the desk was quiet, seemingly his mind was elsewhere. And Qiqi, the child Baizhu so selflessly took care of was nowhere to be seen. Odd. It was all odd, and you had an awful feeling of what might have been going on. Only, for once you wished for yourself to be wrong. That it was only a trick of your mind, nothing more. 

You knocked lightly on the wall closest to you, gaining the attention of the man behind the desk. He had not the time to ask you of your business, you beat him to it. “Where might I find Baizhu?” You inquired, but to your demise the answer was just as you’d expected. “The doctor is having one of those days of his. Come back tomorrow if you need his help!” He nodded after, then going back to whatever he’d been reading before your arrival. 

Useless, he wasn’t going to tell you the truth. You weren’t quite so sure he even knew the extent of it. From your knowledge the man you knew wasn’t one to share information having to do with his contract. 

The sound of footsteps caught your attention soon after. Qiqi marched into the space from behind a corner, not paying much mind to you as she walked past. You weren’t so sure she even remembered your name, and from what you’d heard you weren’t sure she’d ever remember. You’d been claimed as “Bai’s friend” in her mind. But her arrival confirmed your fear. She’d come back with an empty tray in her hands, meaning she’d brought food for Baizhu. 

Without another word, you left. Reversed the way Qiqi had just taken, which led you to an all too familiar door by now. You didn’t bother with knocking, knowing if he was to answer, it would be something along the lines of, ‘I’ll be available tomorrow!’ with maybe instructions on who to ask help from until then. So instead of going through that, you gently opened the door, making sure to close it tightly after stepping in. 

If you’d doubted your fear of his condition before stepping into the room, you had to admit to yourself for being wrong right about now. The usually bright spirited doctor sat at the edge of the bed, slightly hunched over. He had a cloth in hand, covering his mouth with it as coughing fits flushed through his body. You weren’t so sure he’d even heard you come in. “Baizhu?” You asked, voice soft but just loud enough for him to hear. And as no surprise at this point, as soon as he saw you his demeanor changed. Or more so attempted to change, as another coughing fit caught wind of him. He was a mess. And with a quick look at the white snake next to him on the bed, you could tell she wasn’t all too happy about the situation either. You knew she tried to make sure he didn’t overexert himself, yet this happened every now and then. And you couldn’t blame her either. For a skilled and intelligent man like him, he did not know when to take a break or ask for help. 

As the fit calmed down, his gaze landed on you once more. He didn’t seem surprised to see you, expression more apologetic than anything. “You’ve taken too much yet again, and not given yourself time to rest.” You sighed, walking closer as your eyes scanned the nightstand beside the bed. A few small bowls appeared to be spread around it, guessing they must have been left there by Qiqi. But it also meant he’d been here for more than half a day. You began to stack the bowls, somewhat glad that he’d at least eaten something. “I will be fine, honestly. A short rest was in order, nothing more.” He tried to explain himself gently, but it was no use for his defence. “You look worse for wear compared to the last time I saw you…” You sighed, finding yourself oddly upset by the situation. Not angry, never. But upset that he had to live like this. Or chose to, as it more seemed. The first time you’d learned of his contract with the snake, you had begun to think of the creature as a parasite. Feasting on someone else's life force only to sustain her own. Yet, the more you saw Baizhu long to help others even at the risk of his own health, you started to understand his decision.

Baizhu seemed to have caught up with your thoughts, head slightly tilted. He didn’t say anything, yet wishing to ask if you were okay but sensing the irony of asking such things. So he hoped you’d understand him without speaking up on the matter. “I’ve told you to look after yourself.” A sight leaves you, defeated by this point yet still caring. “I admit, I may have overexerted myself a little more than necessary. But believe me when I say, it is nothing fatal.” He replied, coughing after. You noticed the bloodied cloth he was using, shaking your head at the sight. “Seems an awful lot like it will be one of these days.” You answer, gently taking the cloth from him and placing it in one of the empty bowls, knowing you’d take them out with you before leaving. “Forgive me, I did not mean that”, you feel the need to add after a moment of silence. “I merely worry for you out of care.” Which was true, only you hoped he knew the true depths of such feelings. The doctor had taken a breath in an attempt to reply, but a coughing fit disturbed him. You frown, turning to him as you place a fresh cloth on the nightstand for him. “I know, though I do recall telling you not to.” He finally has the chance to say. 

You do not reply to that, being aware that he had indeed said so, yet you saw it as absurd. How could you not, he was dear to you. Though, at times it felt like caring after someone who already slipped beyond your grasp. 

You moved onto the bed, sliding yourself behind him on the soft surface. The snake gave you space out of respect for the attempt to talk some sense into him, slithering to the doctor’s lap. You’d noticed what kind of a mess his hair was, assuming he wouldn’t mind if you fixed it for him. So you didn’t exchange any words with the man, brushing your fingers through his long hair. If you hadn’t known any better, you wouldn’t have noticed the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. The sight erased the former frown from your face as you continued, being able to sort out his hair without a comb. “Hot flashes?” You question him gently, wanting a better perspective on how he was feeling. And above that, you knew a part of him enjoyed being taken care of, being asked the same sort of questions he asked on the daily. ‘Mhm’, a soft agreeing noise responded. “Cold chills?” You continued with the questions, gently gathering some of his hair and twisting it into the familiar bun you were used to seeing him with. ‘Yes’, another agreeing reply, feeling him lean back as you secured the bun. “Hm, I diagnose you bedridden until you feel better.” You chuckled slightly, placing one of the longer pieces of hair he had out of the bun over his shoulder. “Ah, what an awful faith.” He tried to chuckled, a cough replying to the attempt of that. “Now lay down, I’ll come back to check up on you.” You place a hand on his shoulder before getting up from the bed to give him space. He didn’t seem to argue against the idea, laying down rather willingly. You go to pick up the bowls, giving the man one last look before exiting the room. 

AN// Happy new year to everyone who made it to the end, as I know I won't be posting anymore on this side of the year. Concearning my writing this year, yall have made it as amazing as it has been. Thank you, as I still cannot quite comprehend how many people have followed along this mess of a blog <3

[esse-lunam]

an introduction to: my 90s fame dr!

please read this god please there's art in here also ive put 5+ months of work into this dr at this point so i swear that there's interesting shit in here yall I SWEAR I AM NICHE.

reblogs greatly appreciated! this took me forever teehee

ohhh my god this is a long time in the making, ive put this off for so, so long and i really couldn't tell you why. this can act as a script me into ur dr post if you like as well!

for starters, you can find my pinterest board for this dr here :3 just in case u want some cool visuals i guess :3

-

so lets get the basics outta the way shall we?

full name: marley jo veitch

nicknames: mar, marley barley, mars bars, tink (reserved for s/o), living poet (public figure nickname type deal? yknow how stevie nicks gets called the white witch? yeah that)

pronouns: they/she

DOB: june 1st, 1970 (which makes me a gemini btw!)

occupation: musician (piano, violin, guitar n bass, some drums, and saxophone), poet, author (fiction and nonfiction), actor on occasion, also a comedian that one time

skills: all things music + writing basically, film analysis, pop culture analysis i guess, home decor, drawing, fashion?, and being the most autistic person in the multiverse

appearance stats: 5'3", 145ish lbs, long brownish-reddish hair with some light brown highlights in there, sorta wavy but barely

body mods: COVERED in tats (theres a tattoo section on the pinterest board but i also drew some so), septum piercing, snake bites, and a fair few ear piercings. and also i have glasses but thats not a body mod thats just a thing on my body.

"workin and workin't? you have a job?" more on that later!

-

relationships and such! with photos!

s/o: robert sean leonard

"hey, do i recognise this guy?" you might! he played notable roles such as neil perry in dead poet's society, claudio in much ado about nothing, and james wilson in house md!

best friends: dylan kussman, allelon ruggiero, alexandra powers, and kimya dawson

"do i recognise more of these people?" again, probably! dylan, al, and alex were all in dead poets society, and kimya is a musician best known for her indie songs, some featured in the movie juno!

-

my career! (oh good lord)

writing based - undedicated musings

(1986-1993)

alright so this is a bit hard to explain, bear with me. undedicated musings is an anonymous newsletter-based poetry... publication? run by me, under the pen name 'chartreuse', and the whole shtick is that i write poetry, love letters, and whatever else to the person i'll end up spending my life with, but the recipient of said writings is completely unknown, even to me, so im kinda just writing to nobody. until! i actually set my eyes on someone (obviously rsl) and then the writings start to get a bit more specific and yearn-y and personal. since the recipient is anonymous, all the writings are written for a 'vermillion'. both chartreuse and vermillion's identities are revealed when we get married in 1993. and no, rsl doesn't know that i'm chartreuse, nobody does until i reveal myself. i think its kinda cool :3

film based - dead poet's society

(1988-1989)

so for starters, i was part of the crew that worked on the set of dead poets society, now all my friends (except kimya, her and i become friends in the late 90s) make sense! my actual job on set is kind of a vague be-here-and-do-a-bit-of-everything type deal, so there's no set title beyond "assistant to lead" even tho it's essentially government assigned 'friendship' LMAO. but! me and the cast get on like a house on fire, so i kinda just get to tag along on their wacky teenage-ish boy adventures. this totally does not stem from a desire to be part of a teenage boy friend group, and i am, in fact, totally cisgender. i am also lying. anyway, without going into too much detail, me and my s/o-not-yet-s/o (will be referring to him as rsl from this point on) sorta have a painstakingly long will they wont they type deal, because i guess i like torturing myself. we meet a day before all the actual film stuff starts just as a sort of preliminary get to know eachother because you'll be in close proximity VERY often for months. thats some time in march - june-ish? of 1988 (i shift to my dr the day before!) and we don't actually get together until june of 1989. so.

also! some changes to the movie because i can make those: knox overstreet is now played by matthew lillard instead of josh charles, because josh charles is a fucking zionist and i dont want to associate with him in any reality! knox also isnt a b plot to the movie at all, instead focusing on meeks and pitts because i find them much more interesting! and also knox's b plot is creepy as hell! also, the racism against natives (read this!) is completely gone! no thanks!

music based - MAURZI

(1988-2004 technically)

strap in boys because this is the main event of this dr and the lore is VAST. MAURZI (must be spelled in all caps, like MF DOOM) is a sort of musical person/character i've made to tell the story of via a series of albums. i release my first single in october of 1988 titled "lunarian", which is a fun little song about a being from the moon arriving on earth and having some inter-planetary culture shock. and thats the only song i've actually planned! i release 6 total albums that map out the MAURZI storyline kinda

- MAURZI (1989)

- GONE TO SHIT! (1991)

- Charmed (1992)

- I found Him in Santa Barbara (1995)

- Waterworks (1998)

- also bibliography (2004) but those are released as songs By Me and not MAURZI, just released under the same artist. MAURZI storyline ends with Waterworks.

now here's where you get the very extensive MAURZI lore. MAURZI is a sort of alternate-universe representation of me, where in i'm much more famous than i actually am in my dr, and i am absolutely RUINED by my fame in a fuck ton of ways. each album is a different section of her life so i'll explain it album by album. also for reference, in my dr capitalism/ currency isnt a thing, but in the MAURZI... verse? it is. because i like anti capitalist art! same goes for most other media im in/ participate in, actually. MAURZI uses she/her pronouns btw, i dont.

MAURZI - my self-titled album is about as close and personal to my life as i'll get, which an average amount because i still throw in some songs about shit that i have not at all done/ experienced. (ex. songs about cheating, toxic relationships, and things along those lines. thankfully ive had a mostly healthy relationship with relationships! except that one time!) MAURZI is new to the music scene but she's here to make some lovely tunes to help process some stuff! artists im taking inspiration from include (but are not limited to): sarah kinsley, dodie, jeff buckley, tv girl, mitski, and peach pit.

GONE TO SHIT! - MAURZI's first album blew the fuck up! now she's thrown into the midst of dealing with an incomprehensible amount of attention on her at all times, which she was absolutely not prepared for. what does she do to cope? sex drugs and rock n roll, baby! she also gets addicted to 2 outta those 3 things! can you guess which ones?? now, obviously, this album is entirely fictional and is only tangentially inspired by some life events, heavy emphasis on the tangentially. artists im taking inspiration from include (but are not limited to): the nonstick pans, panic! at the disco, forest, david bowie, chappel roan, and king gizzard & the lizard wizard.

Charmed - the love song album! this is basically comprised of songs i sorta wrote about rsl, but changed up a fuck ton because i wrote them while i was pining and did Not want him to knkw who they were about. in terms of MAURZI stuff, she meets someone just after deciding that she's gotta clean up her act if she wants to exist healthily. recovering alongside a loved one and them being a motivator for recovery! now i should specify here that MAURZI's s/o is not the same as mine, and is entirely gender neutral/ doesn't even have a canon(?) human appearance at all. they're named Vermillion because we love a callback! artists im taking inspiration from include (but are not limited to): the smiths, siouxsie and the banshees, james blake, queen, laufey, and her's.

I found Him in Santa Barbara - yknow how when a banana ripens too much and it starts to tuen brown? yeah imagine that logic but applied to recovery, i guess. NOW IS A GOOD TIME TO REITERATE THAT MAURZI AND I ARE TWO DIFFERENT PEOPLE AND MAURZI IS JUST A CHARACTER. essentially MAURZI had a spiritual awakening and "found god." but what that ACTUALLY means is that she started viewing vermillion as a sort of god? but she's keeping it on the down low (making an album about it) because she doesn't want vermillion to thing she's CRINGE. themes of loving a god, being IN love with a god, being in lust with a god, temporarily thinking youre a god? stuff along those lines. its a bit intense, VERY experimental and.. heavy? both in themes and in musical style for some portions. this is my fav album out of all of them if you couldnt tell. artists im taking inspiration from include (but are not limited to): sleep token, WILLOW, type o negative, slipknot, lemon demon (specifically songs off spirit phone), hozier, violent vira, pierce the veil, gorillaz kinda, bjork, kate bush, deftones, destroy boys, and rammstein probably.

Waterworks - so yknow how MAURZI was having a whole trouble with god moment? yeah well thats gone now, no i haven't figured out how that'll work narratively, thats for me to figure out in like 10 years from now (now being 1988, naturally.) we've returned to our self-titled roots in terms of musical style! now we've just got some fun themes of trauma and such! and then that's the and of MAURZI as a character story wise, as i said earlier the album after this one is just a Me album. same artist inspo as self titled!

and guess what! music lore isnt even fuckin done! my music in this dr is a multiverse in itself goddamn. so basically the album covers for each album tell a completely seperate story about a completely seperate alter ego/ character/ whatever named Moonzi. name given by my audience (which is my excuse for coming up with such a shitty name and then keeping it.) the story of moonzi, without going into too much detail because i dont wanna type it all out, is a sci-fi type story about a being from the moon (lunarian callback!) on a quest to bring this space artifact back to its original place, basically. a bit more on it later, emphasis on a bit. also! each album cover is drawn by a different artist, and each album artist animates one official music video off their respective album, just cuz i like art and stuff! those music videos kinda follow the moonzi storyline loosely, but incorporate MAURZI elements. is this confusing? hope not. drawings!

writing based - novels

can you believe im still not done? like not even close? certified yapper. anyway! my 3 fiction novels (Manchester, NH - 1991, Curator Rye, 1997, Sand Dollars + Pearls - 2008) are about my ocs basically! thats it really, i dont feel the need to share the plots of those tbh.

writing based - autobiographies

two? yep! one is a fictional autobiography about MAURZI (MAURZI - 1999) and one is a non fictional autobiography about me (Radio Free Marley - 2012.) take a shot every time i say MAURZI and you will need to get your stomach pumped. she just. she means a lot to me :3

film based - doctor who

(1994-1999)*

*these dates are when im on the show btw, not its total runtime, same applies to other cr existing shows.

big disclaimer: never seen doctor who. dont know the plot, dont know which doctor i'm gonna be, i just wanna be in it.

so! my version of the doctor is kinda weird. its one doctor, but played by two people, but theyre one person. we're both the doctor. and by we i mean both me and rsl, obviously. the viewer sees the doctor as two different people, but NOBODY ELSE IN THE DAMN SHOW besides our little companion buddy guy (played by my cr friend fish!) SEES, ACKNOWLEDGES, OR IS ABLE TO VIEW THE DOCTOR AS TWO PEOPLE. its really complicated and i really did not have to make it that way, but its cool to me so i really dont care. also we're breakjng the doctor who cycle of boring suit and tie (this is NOT about you 15 <3) and going steampunk-esque. again, cuz i wanna.

film based - house md

(2005 - 2010)

marley veitch be in a show without rsl challenge (failed.) i play a character i made up named Nanette Amesbury who is essentially wilson's first ex wife. does he have a canon first ex wife? think so (i actually havent finished house oops.) do i care? you can take a guess. nanette (nicknamed ninny - which im well aware means dumb) is the director of the pediatrics department at princeton plainsboro and she kinda has a fwb type deal with wilson before figuring out shes a lesbian, having a crush on cuddy, being besties with kutner, then leaving the show in season 6. (zeth if ur reading this yes i made her show up for more than 2 seconds she just. means so much to me. also i want cudbury content.) im also a writer for the show so im there for its entire run time :3 i really like this show :3

film based - moonzi

(2016)

YEAHHHHH BABY SHES BACK!!! moonzi's storyline gets adapted into an adult swim animated tv show! i do screenwriting, stiryboarding, and voice acting! style wise, think teen titans mixed with bojack horseman mixed with archer. sick space visuals also!

comedy based - dying art

(2020)

idk i wanted to do a standup special! dunno what it's about. ill leave that up to future me to decide because this isn't happening for 32 damn years and i really just dont wanna come up with a standup special rn.

film based - radio free marley

(whenever)

i wanted a biopic, but i wanted it to be both about me and MAURZI, and how points in my life influenced or inspire songwriting. so the episode structure is like

ep 1: about me, point in my life

ep 2: about MAURZI, point in her life thats sorta related but not entirely to the events in ep 1

ep 3: about me, point in my life

ep 4: about MAURZI, point in her life thats sorta related but not entirely to the events in ep 3

ep 5: you get the idea

and then this goes on for 12 episodes and ends with the MAURZI story wrapping up and with me sorta retiring kinda. dont know when it'll be made, probably at some point in my 60s or whatever. im permashifting if you couldnt tell btw.

and thats it! after all this im just kinda existing and living life and whatever else. so with that outta the way i'll list some fun facts and i'll FINALLY BE DONE JESUS CHRIST IVE BEEN WRITING THIS FOR LIKE 3 HOURS.

- i live in new york city! manhattan to be specific

- i also have a lake house in new hampshire because i Need to be in a rural area at some points

- my house's interior design is very 70s themed and its WHIMSICAL AND FUN! maximalism, whimsigoth, nooks and crannys to be in, fun and varied seating options, conversation pit, loft bedroom, whole 9 yards. ive also got a gazebo on my roof!

- i have 2 siblings in my dr (not here im an only child in my cr womp womp) named lia and monty, theyre my best friends in my cr!

- ive also got a cat! she's a ragdoll kitty named yvonne, shes a sweetheart!

- i scripted out light pollution so the sky is all pretty at night, highly recommend you do the same

- im in STOMP at one point, dont know or care when, i just wanna be in it

- robin williams........... he is a father figure to me................ sniff sob

- yes i scripted out his death i simply cannot deal with that

- PUBLIC TRANSPORT AND WALKABLE SOCIETY!!!!! NO MORE CAR BASED US SOCIEY WOOOO!!!

- i cant fucking believe i havent mentioned this yet but im scottish?? im not scottish in my cr i was just thinking about david tennant when i was forming the dr idea back in january and it stuck. MAURZI is american tho

- hilson is canon in my dr LMAOAOOA

- thats all i got

sweet lord in heaven above if you've read this whole thing im giving u a big kiss. this is so long and i really dont wanna proofread it so im not gonna, excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes.

[numberonedukethomasapologist]

230 words, wow, I wish I could write academic essays like this.

Gotham is one of the most crime ridden cities of the DC multiverse, unfortunately these crimes may include hate crimes.

I’m privileged enough to live in an area with the least (reported)crime rate of the state/country, however racism is still extremely prevalent (and also other crimes I will not name since it’s an unrelated and also a heavy topic) and it’s affected me a lot.

I am also very normal about Duke Thomas.

Do you think that in a sleepover/slumber party at night the batfamily (esp poc I guess??) just share their experience with racism? I’m not from the US so I’m not well versed in societal values there

Also, I understand that some people may perceive Grayson as White, but him being Roma would be interesting (in a good and bad way) since the Romani peoples are still greatly discriminated against around the globe, even casually. I’m aware of the Devin Grayson situation, I think it would be great for there to be a respectful redo of Romani representation in media.

Please yap back to me I am your #1 fan.

Also, I put this question in paragraphs, does it make this easier to read?

I wrote and sent this after 11pm so if you offended by anything I say here, there’s your reason. Please tell me why you found this off-putting so I can improve.

I do think that they would talk about racist shit that happens to them

And homophobic and ableist stuff

I think it would be like casual conversation?

They wouldn't feel awkward or afraid to talk about it to eachother because it has def happend to majority of the bats

Hate crimes have def happened to all the waynes because of their status and skin color for soke of them

Some of the more rich folk talk about Bruce badly only because of the children that he has adopted

Some would even hate on him for 'mixing his bloodline'

Bruce being the white guy he is maybe when he first got grayson him explaing racism to him would've been very awkward and infuriating because "who tf would say that to a child? MY child?" And I don't think alot if racism or deep shit would happen at the circus

But after having multiple poc children and hearing them talk about shit that they go through with the people in Gotham (mostly richer people or just a lowlife that takes their anger out on other people) and receiving backlash for choosing to adopt those kids

It would become normal for Bruce to comfort his kids and explain racism and why it's happening to the

[I LOVE TO YAPP YALL😋 FEEL FREE TO COMMENT OR REPOST AND TOUCH ON SUBJECTS I MISSED WITH THIS ILY❤️]

[yooniesim]

I know nobody gives a shit about this in comparison so posting a save file with uncredited builds in it, but reminder of that time @mapanou started calling me out of name and spewing hateful nazi ideology at me out of nowhere just bc i made a lukewarm criticism of a paywaller and I dared to say black people are often criticized more for being angry... but since only one of my parents are black that ain't allowed 😬 some of yall acted like this was okay but I didn't forget it, I notice how some of their friends are acting all betrayed now bc their homie turned out to be a sims content thief but you knew who you were laying down with clearly. You were glad to support an extremely nasty ass person when the vitriol was directed at me, but God forbid someone not credit a build! anyway guess who was struck down and it wasn't me bitch 💀

That aside, since the insufferable cunt had the nerve to mention the One Drop Rule, which has been used as a tool to discriminate against all black people and keep their mixed offspring othered for as many generations as possible, here's some sources on what it actually refers to (and some related articles about the struggles of mixed race people). It's a method of discrimination by white supremacists, not a way for mixed race people that you think are unworthy of speaking to "claim" to be black. If you're lurking, mapanou, i hope you and your friends read them and understand something you should have already at your "very big age".

One Drop Rule on Wikipedia (for the basic concept + more sources)

How The "One Drop Rule" Became a Tool of White Supremacy

How The Nazis Were Inspired by Jim Crow

Understanding the Stressors and Types of Discrimination That Can Affect Multiracial Individuals

Exploring Black mixed-race experiences of Black rejection

Not Enough Or Double The Prejudice: On Being Black & Asian American

Why Imposter Syndrome Goes Deep for Multiracial People

When Your Own Family Is Racist Toward You

^ the basic gist for the lazy. and just an added bit. I don't know if mapanou has ever seen me, because I barely know them and certainly didn't share with them, but I have been doxxed plenty and my pics probably shared to them by others and im obviously not white though i am light skinned. im very proud of my dark natural hair, brown eyes, thick lips and big nose that I all got from my father. I have nothing to prove nor hide about who I am. I am black and asian and white and I love every part of what makes me, me. I am mixed race and if you don't believe or like me as I am that's your problem not mine. just wanna clear that up for all the people that may have been confused about it. and for all my followers that are mixed, especially black and asian, I love you and you have a place here. your voices and experiences are valuable and you deserve to be heard. that's all I got to say.